cne. 


TRAITOR 


THOMAS  DIXON  J£ 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 


THE  COLLECTION  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINIANA 

EISTDOWED  BY 

JOHN  SPRUNT  HILL 

CLASS  OF  1889 


C813 
D62t 
C.3 


00006774715 


Moi 


This  BOOK  may  be  kept  out  TWO  WEEKS 
ONLY,  and  is  subject  to  a  fine  of  FIVE 
CENTS  a  day  thereafter.  It  is  DUE  on  the 
DAY   indicated  below: 


THE  TRAITOR 


OTHER  BOOKS  BY  MR.  DIXON 

"THE  CLANSMAN" 
"THE  LEOPARD'S  SPOTS" 
"THE  ONE  WOMAN" 
"THE  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING" 


I'hc  High  Court  of  Justice  of  the  Angio-Saxon  race  suddenly  transformed  into  a  Xepro 

minstrel  farce"  [Set j-ag-e 306] 


The  Traitor 

A  Story    of  the  Fall 
of   the   Invisible  Empire 

By 

THOMAS    DIXON,    Jr. 

Illustrated  by 

C.  D.  WILLIAMS 


New  York 

Doubleday,   Page  &  Company 

1907 


Copyright,  1907,  by  Thomas  Dixon,  Ja. 
Published,  July,  1907 


All  Rights  Reserved 

Including  that  of  Translation  into  Foreign  Languages 

Including  the  Scandinavian 


DEDICATED  TO 

THE  MEN  OF  THE  SOUTH 

WHO  SUFFERED  EXILE.  IMPRISONMENT  AND  DEATH 

FOR  THE  DARING  SERVICE  THEY  RENDERED  OUR  COUNTRY 

AS  CITIZENS  OF  THE  INVISIBLE  EMPIRE 


^ 
V 

:i^ 

^ 
^ 

^ 


TO  THE  READER 

This  volume  closes,  as  originally  planned, 
'•THE    TRILOGY    OF    RECONSTRUCTION" 
"The  Leopard's  Spots" 
"The  Clansman'* 
"The  Traitor" 
"The    Clansman"     ended    with     the     political 
triumph    of   the    Klu    Klux    Klan,    or    Invisible 
Empire.     The  story  of  "The  Traitor"  opens  with 
the  order  of  dissolution  by  General  Forest  and  is 
set  in  the  atmosphere  of  the  fierce  neighborhood 
feuds   which  marked  the  Klan's  downfall  in  the 
Piedmont  region  of  the  South. 

Thomas  Dixon,  Jr. 
New  York,  1907. 


CONTENTS 


BOOK  I. 

THE  CRIME 

CHAPTER 
I. 

The  Threat  .... 

PACK 

3 

II. 

Mr.  Hoyle  Receives  a  Shock 

27 

III. 

A  Blow  is  Struck  . 

.      36 

IV. 

The  Old  Code  .... 

57 

V. 

Graham  vs.  Butler 

.      61 

VI. 

Scalawag  and  Carpetbagger 

74 

VII. 

The  Reign  of  Folly 

•      95 

VIII. 

The  Masqueraders     . 

99 

IX. 

A  Counter  Stroke  . 

.     105 

X. 

The  Strength  of  the  Weak  . 

no 

XL 

Through  the  Secret  Panel 

.     122 

THE  TRAITOR 

BOOK  11. 

A  WOMAN'S  REVENGE 

CHAPTER  PAOK 

I.     Stella's  Resolution            .         .  .     135 

II.     Weighed  and  Found  Wanting      .  142 

III.  The  Trap  is  Set     .         .         .  .150 

IV.  Ackerman  Secures  a  Pledge         .  162 
V.     In  the  Toils  .....     165 

VI.     The  Train  for  the  North     .         .  172 

VII.     The  Daughter  of  Eve     .          .  .      175 

VIII.     The  Tracks  at  the  Door      .         .  193 

IX.     A  Test  of  Strength         .         .  -197 

X.     Behind  Bolted  Doors           .         .  207 

XI.     A  Voice  in  Warning       .         .  .     214 

XII.     The  Trap  is  Sprung   .         .         .  222 

XIII.  For  Love's  Sake    ....     234 

XIV.  The  Judgment  Hall  cf  Fate         .  239 


CONTENTS 

BOOK  III. 
PRISONER  AND  TRAITOR 


rAGK 


CHAPTER 

I.  The  Arrest 255 

II.  Through  Prison  Bars  .  .  .  268 

III.  A  Woman's  Way  ....  275 

IV.  The  Hon.  Stephen  Hoyle    .          .  283 
V.  Ackerman  Cornered        .          .          .  290 

VI.  Through  Deep  Waters         .  .  295 

VII.  The  Prisoner  at  the  Bar  .  .  304 

VIII.  The  Ministry  of  Angels       .  .  318 

IX.  The  Day  of  Atonement  .  .  325 

X.  Under  Bright  Skies     ...  33° 


LEADING  CHARACTERS  OF  THE  STORY 


\cene: 


The  Foothills  of  North  Carolina. 
Time:     1870  to  1872. 

.     Ex-chief  of  the  Klan 

His  Father 

His  Brother 

.    The  Family  Butler 

.    Their  Landlady 

,  Her  Daughter 

.     A  Mountaineer 

.     Chief  of  the  New  Klan 

.    Of  the  U.  S.  Circuit  Court 

His  Daughter 


John  Graham 

Major  Graham 

Billy 

Alfred 

Mrs.  Wilson 

Susie 

Dan  Wiley     . 

Steve  Hoyle 

Judge  Butler 

Stella 

Aunt  Julie  Ann 

Maggie 

Suggs 

Ackerman 

Alexander  Larkin 

Isaac  A.  Postle  . 

The  Attorney  General 

Hon.  Reverdy  Johnson 

Hon.  Henry  Stanbery 

U.  S.  Grant 


His  Cook 

Stella's  Maid 

A  Detective 

Of  the  U.  S.  Secret  Service 

.    A  Carpetbagger 

.     A  Sanctified  Man 

Of  the  United  States 

.  Of  Maryland 

.      Of  Ohio 

The  President 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"The  High  Court  of  Justice  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  race  suddenly  transformed  into  a 
Negro  minstrel  farce "       .         .    Frontispiece 


FACING    PAGE 


"Some  of  the  men  were  sobbing"  .  .  52 
"  Stella  stared  at  the  lifeless  form  "  .  .  134 
"A  beautiful  face  bent  above  him"    .        .      270 


THE    TRAITOR 

Book  I — The  Crime 
CHAPTER  I 

THE   THREAT 

WHAS  the  mather  with  the  latch!" 
John  Graham  stood  in  the  soft  Southern 
moonh'ght  fumbhng  over  the  gate  of  the  old  home- 
stead from  which  the  Civil  War  had  driven  his 
family  penniless. 

"Used  to  be  a  latch  anyhow,  before  his  illus- 
trious Dishonour,  the  Judge,  and  his  African 
Government,  turned  us  out ! "  he  continued  to 
mutter. 

"Wonder  if  he's  locked  it?  Didn't  need  bolts 
for  gates  in  our  time — but  he  does — the  old 
Scalawag!" 

Each  word  of  the  last  sentence  was  slowly 
hissed.  Again  he  felt  over  the  gate,  tried  both 
sides  without  success,  stepped  back  and  surveyed 
it  critically. 

"By  Geeminy,  the  gate's  grown  up! — used  to 
be  here — see  the  gravel  walk  on  the  other  side." 

3 


4  THE  TRAITOR 

He  shook  it  gently. 

"No  mistake  about  it — grown  solid  to  the  fence. 
I'll  have  to  climb  over." 

He  touched  the  points  of  the  sharp  pickets, 
suddenly  straightened  himself  with  dignity  and 
growled : 

*'  I  won't  climb  over  my  own  fence,  and  I  won't 
scratch    under.     I'll   walk    straight   through." 

A  vicious  lurch  against  the  gate  smashed  the 
latch  and  he  fell  heavily  inside. 

He  had  scarcely  touched  the  ground  when  a 
fair  girl  of  eighteen,  dressed  in  spotless  white, 
reached  the  gate,  running  breathlessly,  darted 
inside,  seized  his  arm  and  helped  him  to  his  feet. 

"Mr.  John,  you  must  come  home  with  me," 
she   said   eagerly. 

"Got  to  see  old  Butler,  Miss  Susie." 

"You're  in  no  condition  to  see  Judge  Butler." 
She  spoke  with  tenderness  and  yet  with  authority. 

"And  why  not?"  he  argued  good-naturedly. 
"Ain't  I  dressed  in  my  best  bib  and  tucker  ?" 

He  brushed  the  dirt  from  his  seedy  frock  coat 
and  buttoned  it  carefully. 

"You've  been  drinking,"  pleaded  the  girl. 

"Yet  I'm  not  drunk!"  he  declared  trium- 
phantly. 

"Then  you're  giving  a  good  imitation,"  she 
said  with  an  audible  smile. 


THE  THREAT  5 

"Miss  Susie,  I  deny  the  allegation.'* 

He  bowed  with  impressive  dignity. 

Susie  drew  him  firmly  toward  the  street.  . 

"You  mustn't  go  in — I  ran  all  the  way  to  stop 
you  in  time — you'll  quarrel  with  the  Judge." 

"That's  what  I  came  for." 

"  Well,  you  musn't  do  it.  Mama  says  the  Judge 
has  the  power  to  ruin  you." 

John's  eyes  shot  a  look  of  red  hate  toward  the 
house  and  his  strong  jaws  snapped. 

"He  has  done  it  already,  child!"  he  growled; 
paused,  and  changed  his  tone  to  a  quizzical  drawl. 
"The  fact  is.  Miss  Susie,  I've  merely  imbibed 
a  little  eloquence  on  purpose  to-night  to  tell  this 
distinguished  ornament  of  the  United  States 
Judiciary,  without  reservation  and  with  due 
emphasis,  just  how  many  kinds  of  a  scoundrel 
he  really  is." 

"Don't  do  it." 

"It's  my  patriotic  duty." 

"But  you'll  fight." 

"Far  from  it.  Miss  Susie.  I  may  thrash  the 
Judge  incidentally  during  our  talk,  but  there 
will  be  no  fight." 

"Please  don't  go  in,  Mr.  John!"  she  pleaded 
softly. 

"I  must,  child,"  he  answered,  smilingly  but 
firmly.     "Old    Butler   to-day    used   his    arbitrary 


6  THE  TRAITOR 

power  to  disbar  me  from  the  practice  of  law.  If 
that  order  stands,  Fm  a  pauper.  I  already  owe 
your  mother  for  two  months'  board. " 

"We  don't  want  the  money,"  eagerly  broke 
in  the  girl. 

"Two  months'  board,"  he  went  on,  ignoring 
her  Interruption,  "for  my  dear  old  crazy  Dad, 
helpless  as  a  babe  with  his  faithful  servant  Alfred 
who  must  wait  on  him — two  months'  board  for 
my  bouncing  brother  Billy,  an  eighteen-year-old 
cub  who  never  missed  a  meal — two  months' 
board  for  my  war-tried  appetite  that  was  never 
known  to  fail.  No,  Miss  Susie,  we  can't  im- 
pose on  the  good  nature  of  the  widow  Wilson 
and  her  beautiful  daughter  who  does  the  work 
of  a  slave  without  wages  and  without  a 
murmur." 

Susie's  eyes  suddenly  fell. 

"No,  I've  given  Alfred  orders  to  pack.  We 
must  move  to-morrow." 

"You'll  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  cried  the  girl. 
"You  can  pay  us  when  you  are  able.  Your 
father  saved  us  from  want  during  the  war.  We  owe 
him  a  debt  that  can't  be  paid.  He  is  no  trouble, 
and  Alfred  works  the  garden.  Mother  loves 
Billy  as  if  he  were  my  brother.  And  we  are 
honoured  in  having  you  in  our  home. " 

The  tender  gray  eyes  were  lowered  again. 


THE  THREAT  7 

John  looked  at  her  curiously,  bowed  and  kissed 
her  hand. 

"Thanks,  Miss  Susie!  I  appreciate,  more  than 
I  can  tell,  your  coming  alone  after  me  here  to-night 
— a  very  rash  and  daring  thing  for  a  girl  to  do  in 
these  troublesome  times.  Such  things  make  a  fel- 
low ashamed  that  he  ever  took  a  drink,  make  him 
feel  that  life  is  always  worth  the  fight — and  I'm 
going  to  make  it  to-night — and  I'm  going  to  win!" 

"Then  don't  give  old  Butler  the  chance  to 
ruin  you,"  pleaded  the  gentle  voice. 

"I  won't,  my  little  girl,  I  won't — don't  worry! 
I'll  play  my  trump  card — I've  got  it  here." 

He  fumbled  in  his  pocket  and  drew  out  a  letter 
which  he  crushed  nervously  in  his  slender  but 
powerful  hand,  drawing  his  tall  figure  suddenly 
erect. 

The  girl  saw  that  her  pleadings  were  in  vain, 
and  said  helplessly: 

"You  won't  come  back  with  me?" 

"No,  Miss  Susie,  I've  serious  work  just  now 
with  the  present  lord  of  this  manor;  my  future 
hangs  on  the  issue.  I'll  win — and  I'll  come  home 
later  in  the  evening  without  a  scratch." 

Again  the  slender  white  hand  rested  on  his  arm. 

"  Promise  me  to  wait  an  hour  until  you  are 
cooler  and  your  head  is  clear  before  you  see  him 
— will  you  ?' 


I" 


8  THE  TRAITOR 

"Maybe,  "he  said  evasively, 

"If  you  do  appreciate  my  coming,"  she  urged, 
"at  least  show  it  by  this;    promise  for  my  sake, 
w^on't  you  ?" 

He  hesitated  a  moment  and  answered  with 
courtesy: 

"Yes,  I  promise  for  your  sake,  Susie,  my  little 
mascot  and  fellow  conspirator  of  The  Invisible 
Empire — good-bye!"  He  seized  her  hand,  and 
held  it  a  moment.  "My!  my!  but  you  look  one 
of  us  to-night,  with  that  sylph  figure  robed  in 
white  standing  there  ghost-like  in  the  moonlit 
shadows!" 

"  I  wish  I  could  share  your  dangers.  I'd  go  on  a 
raid  with  you  if  you'd  let  me,"  she  cried  eagerly. 

"No  doubt,"  he  laughed. 

"  ril  sit  up  until  you  come,"  she  whispered  as 
she  turned  and  left  him. 

John  Graham  leaned  against  the  picket  fence 
and  watched  intently  the  white  figure  until  Susie 
Wilson  disappeared.  The  talk  with  her  had  more 
than  half  sobered  him. 

"And  now  for  business,"  he  muttered,  turning 
through  the  open  gate  toward  the  house.  He 
stopped    suddenly    with    amazement. 

"Well,  what  the  Devil!  every  window  from 
cellar  to  attic  ablaze  with  light.  And  the  old 
scoundrel  has  always  kept  it  dark  as  the  grave." 


THE  THREAT  9 

He  seated  himself  on  a  rustic  bench  in  the 
shadows  to  await  the  lapse  of  the  hour  he  had 
promised  Susie,  and  pondered  more  carefully 
the  plan  of  personal  vengeance  against  Butler 
which  was  now  rapidly  shaping  itself  in  his  mind. 
That  he  had  the  power,  as  chief  of  the  dreaded 
Ku  Klux  Klan,  to  execute  it  was  not  to  be  doubted. 
The  Invisible  Empire  obeyed  his  word  without 
a  question. 

Tender  memories  of  his  childhood  began  to 
flood  his  soul.  Beneath  these  trees  he  had  spent 
the  happiest  days  of  life — the  charmed  life  of  the 
old  regime.  He  could  see  now  the  stately  form 
of  his  mother  moving  among  its  boxwood  walks 
directing  the  work  of  her  slaves. 

He  had  not  been  there  before  since  the  day  her 
body  was  carried  from  the  hall  five  years  ago  and 
laid  to  rest  in  the  family  vault  in  the  far  corner 
of  the  lawn.  Ah,  that  awful  day!  Could  he  ever 
forget  it  ?  The  day  old  Butler  brought  his  deputy 
marshals  and  evicted  his  father  and  mother  from 
the  home  they  loved  as  life  itself! 

The  Graham  house  had  always  been  a  show 
place  in  the  town  of  Independence.  Built  in 
1840,  by  John's  grandfather,  Robert  Graham, 
the  eccentric  son  of  Colonel  John  Graham  of 
Revolutionary  fame,  it  was  a  curious  mixture  of 
Colonial  and   French  architecture.     The  French 


10  THE  TRAITOR 

touches   were  tributes  to  the   Huguenot  ancestry 
of  his   grandmother. 

The  building  crowned  the  summit  of  a  hill  and 
was  surrounded  by  twenty-five  acres  of  trees  of 
native  growth  beneath  which  wound  labyrinths 
of  walks  hedged  by  boxwood.  Its  shape  was 
a  huge,  red  brick  rectangle,  three  and  a  half  stories 
in  height,  with  mansard  roof  broken  by  quaint 
projecting  French  windows.  On  three  sides 
porches  had  been  added,  their  roof  supported  by 
small  white  Colonial  columns.  The  front  door, 
of  pure  Colonial  pattern,  opened  directly  into  a 
great  hall  of  baronial  dimensions,  at  the  back  of 
which  a  circular  stairway  wound  along  the  curved 
wall. 

The  attic  story  was  lighted  by  the  windows  of  an 
observatory.  From  the  hall  one  could  thus  look 
up  through  the  galleries  of  three  floors  and  the 
slightest  whisper  from  above  was  echoed  with 
startling  distinctness.  The  strange  noises  which 
the  Negro  servants  had  heard  floating  down  from 
these  upper  spaces  had  been  translated  into  ghost 
stories  which  had  grown  in  volume  and  picturesque 
distinction  with  each  succeeding  generation.  The 
house  had  always  been  "haunted." 

The  family  vault  in  the  remotest  corner  of  the 
lawn  was  built  of  solid  masonry  sunk  deep  into 
the   hillside.     Its   iron    doors,   which   were   never 


THE  THREAT  ii 

locked,  opened  through  a  mass  of  tangled  ivy  and 
honeysuckle  climbing  in  all  directions  over  the 
cedars  and  holly  which  completely  hid  its  exist- 
ence. 

Popular  tradition  said  that  Robert  Graham  had 
loved  his  frail  Huguenot  bride  with  passionate 
idolatry,  and  anticipating  her  early  death,  had 
constructed  this  vault,  a  very  unusual  thing  in  this 
section  of  the  South.  It  was  whispered,  too,  that 
he  had  dug  a  secret  passage-way  from  the  house 
to  this  tomb,  that  he  might  spend  his  evenings 
near  her  body  without  the  prying  eyes  of  the  world 
to  watch  his  anguish.  Whether  this  secret  way 
was  a  myth  or  reality  only  the  Grahams  knew. 
Not  one  of  the  family  had  ever  been  known  to 
speak  of  the  rumour,  either  to  affirm  or  deny  it. 

A  year  after  his  wife's  death  Robert  Graham 
was  found  insane,  wandering  among  the  trees  at 
the  entrance  of  the  vault.  This  branch  of  the 
family  had  always  been  noted  for  it's  men  of 
genius  and  it's  touch  of  hereditary  insanity. 

On  the  day  of  his  mother's  burial  John  Graham 
had  found  his  own  father  sitting  in  the  door  of 
this  tomb   hopelessly  insane. 

But  he  had  not  accepted  the  theory  of  hereditary 
insanity  in  the  case  of  his  father.  The  Major 
was  a  man  of  quiet  courteous  manners,  deliberate 
in   his   habits,   a  trained  soldier,  a  distinguished 


12  THE  TRAITOR 

veteran  of  the  Mexican  war,  conciliatory  in  tem- 
per, and  a  diplomat  by  instinct.  He  had  never 
had  a  quarrel  with  a  neighbour  or  a  personal  feud 
in   his   life. 

The  longer  John  Graham  brooded  over  this 
tragedy  to-night,  the  fiercer  grew  his  hatred  of 
Butler.  Something  had  happened  in  the  hall  the 
day  of  his  mother's  death  which  had  remained  a 
mystery.  Aunt  Julie  Ann,  who  stayed  with  the 
new  master  of  the  old  house  as  his  cook,  had  told 
John  that  she  had  heard  high  words  between 
Butler  and  the  Major,  and  when  she  was  called, 
found  her  mistress  dead  on  the  floor  and  his  father 
lying  moaning  beside  her. 

John  had  always  held  the  theory  that  Butler 
had  used  rough  or  insulting  language  to  his  mother; 
his  father  had  resented  it,  and  the  Judge,  taking 
advantage  of  his  weakness  from  a  long  illness  of 
typhoid  fever,  had  struck  the  Major  a  cowardly 
blow.  The  shock  had  killed  his  mother,  and 
rendered  his  father  insane.  Experts  had  examined 
the  Major's  head,  however,  and  failed  to  discover 
any  pressure  of  the  skull  on  the  brain.  Yet  John 
held  this  theory  as  firmly  as  if  he  had  been  present 
and  witnessed  the  tragedy. 

He  rose  from  his  seat,  walked  to  the  front  en- 
trance of  the  house  and  looked  at  his  watch  by 
the    bright    light    which   streamed   through    the 


THE  THREAT  13 

leaded  glass  beside  the  door.  He  had  yet  ten 
minutes. 

He  retraced  in  part  his  steps,  followed  the  narrow 
path  to  the  foot  of  the  hill  and  entered  the  vault. 
Feeling  his  way  along  the  sides  to  the  arched  niche 
in  the  rear,  he  pressed  his  shoulder  heavily  against 
the  right  side  of  the  smooth  stone  wall  forming 
the  back  of  the  niche,  and  felt  it  instantly  give. 
The  rush  of  damp  air  told  him  that  the  old  under- 
ground   way   was    open. 

He  smiled  with  satisfaction.  He  knew  that 
this  passage  led  through  a  blind  wall  in  the  base- 
ment of  the  house  and  up  into  the  great  hall  by  a 
panel  in  the  oak  wainscoting  under  the  stairs. 

"It's. easy!  My  men  could  seize  him  without  a 
struggle!"  he  said  grimly,  slowly  allowing  the  door 
to  settle  back  of  its  own  weight  into  place  again. 

He  stood  for  a  moment  in  the  darkness  of  the 
vault,  clinched  his  fist  at  last  and  exclaimed: 

"I'll  do  it! — but  I  prefer  the  front  door.  I'll 
try  that  first." 

A  few  minutes  later  he  had  reached  the  house, 
knocked  loudly  and  stood  waiting  an  answer. 

Aunt  Julie  Ann's  black  face  smiled  him  a  hearty 
welcome. 

"Come  right  in,  Marse  John,  honey,  an'  make 
yo'  sef  at  home.     I  sho  is  glad  ter  see  ye!" 

John  walked  deliberately  across  the  hall  and  sat 


14  THE  TRAITOR 

down  on  the  old  mahogany  davenport  under  the 
stairs  behind  which  he  knew  the  secret  door  opened. 
He  reached  back  carelessly,  played  with  the  spring 
and  felt  it  yield. 

Aunt  Julie  Ann's  huge  form  waddled  after  him. 

"  Fore  I  pass  de  time  er  day  I  mus'  tell  ye  Marse 
John,  what  de  Jedge  say.  He  give  'structions  ter 
all  de  folks  dat  ef  any  Graham  put  his  foot  ter  dat 
do'  ter  tell  'im  he  don't  low  you  inside  dis  yard!  I 
tell  ye,  so's  I  kin  tell  him  I  tell  ye — Cose,  I  can't 
help  it  dat  you  brush  right  pass  me  an'  come  in, 
can  I,  honey  ?" 

"Of  course  not,  Aunt  Julie  Ann." 

Her  big  figure  shook  with  suppressed  laughter. 
"De  very  idee  er  me  keepin'  Mammy's  baby 
outen  dis  house  when  I  carry  him  across  dis  hall  in 
my  arms  de  day  he  wuz  born!  An  how's  all  de 
folks,  Marse  John .?" 

"About  as  usual,  thank  you.  Aunt  Julie  Ann. 
How  are  you  ?" 

"Poorly,   thank   God,   poorly." 

"Why,  what's  the  matter?" 

She  glanced  furtively  up  into  the  dim  moonlit 
gallery  of  the  observatory  and  whispered : 

"Dey  wuz  terrible  times  here  las'  night!" 

"What  happened.?" 

"Ghosts!" 

"What,  again  ?"  John  laughed. 


THE  THREAT  15 

"Nasah,  dem  wuz  new  ones!  We  got  de  lights 
all  burnin'  ter-night.  De  Jedge,  he  wuz  scared 
outen  ten  years  growth.  He  been  in  bed  all  day, 
des  now  git  up  ter  supper.  Wuz  Marse  William 
well  las'  night  ?" 

"As  well  as  usual,  yes;  Alfred  put  him  to  bed 
early." 

"Well,  sho's  you  born,  his  livin'  ghost  wuz  here! 
He  wuz  clothed  an'  in  his  right  min'  too!  I  hear 
sumfin  walkin'  up  in  de  attic  'bout  leben  erclock, 
an'  I  creep  out  in  de  hall  an'  look  up,  an'  bress  de 
Lawd,  dar  stood  you  Pa  leanin'  ober  de  railin' 
lookin'  right  at  me!  Well,  sah,  I  wuz  scared  dat 
bad  I  couldn't  holler.  I  look  ergin  an'  dar  stood 
yo  Ma,  my  dead  Missy,  right  side  er  him." 

"Ah,  Aunt  Julie  Ann,  you  were  walking  in  your 
sleep." 

"Nasah!  I'se  jist  as  waked  as  I  is  now.  I  try 
my  bes'  ergin  ter  holler,  but  I  clean  los'  my  breath 
and  couldn't.  So  I  crawl  to  the  Jedge's  room,  an' 
tell  him  what  I  see.  He  wuz  scared  most  ter 
death,  but  he  follow  me  out  in  de  hall  an'  look  up. 
He  seed  'em  too  an'  drop  down  side  er  me  er 
foamin'  at  de  mouf.  He's  powerful  scary  any- 
how, de  Jedge  is — des  like  us  niggers.  I  got  him 
ter  bed  and  poured  er  big  drink  er  licker  down 
'im,  an'  when  he  come  to,  he  make  me  promise 
nebber  ter    tell    nobody,    an'    I    promise.     Cose, 


i6  THE  TRAITOR 

hit's  des  like  Fse  talkin'  ter  myself,  honey,  when 
I  tell  you." 

"And  this  morning  he  gave  orders  to  admit 
no  one  of  the  tribe  of  Graham  inside  the  yard 
agam  r 

*' Yassah!'* 

"Well,  tell  his  Honour  that  I  am  here  and  wish 
to  see  him  at  once. " 

"Yassah,  I  spec  he  won't  come  down — but  I 
tell  'im,  sah." 

She  waddled  up  the  stairs  to  the  Judge's  room. 
John  heard  the  quarrel  between  them.  Aunt 
Julie  Ann's  voice  loud,  shrill,  defiant,  insolent, 
above  the  Judge's.  She  served  him  for  his  money 
and  her  love  for  the  old  house,  but  secretly  she 
despised  him  as  she  did  all  poor  white  trash  and 
in  such  moments  made  no  effort  to  hide  her 
feelings. 

"Bully  for  Aunt  Julie  Ann!"     John  chuckled. 

When  she  returned,  he  slipped  the  last 
piece  of  money  he  possessed  into  her  hand  and 
smiled. 

"Keep  it  for  good  luck,"  he  said. 

"Yassah!  De  Jedge  say  he  be  down  as  soon 
as  he  dresses — he  all  dress  now  but  he  des  want 
ter  keep  you  waitin'." 

"I  understand,"  said  John  with  a  laugh.  "Are 
you  sure,  Aunt  Julie  Ann,  that  the  ghost  of  the 


THE  THREAT  17 

Major  you  saw  last  night  wasn't  the  real  man 
himself?" 

"Cose  I'se  sho'.     Hit  wuz  his  speret!" 

"Alfred  says  he's  walking  in  his  sleep  of  late; 
at  least  he  found  mud  on  his  shoes  the  other  morn- 
ing when  he  got  up." 

"De  Lawd,  Marse  John,  hit  wuz  his  speret,  des 
lak  I  tell  ye.  He  didn't  look  crazy  no  mo'n  you 
is.  He  look  des  lak  he  look  in  de  ole  days  when 
we  wuz  all  rich  an'  proud  and  happy.  He  wuz 
laughin'  an'  talkin'  low  like  to  my  Missy  an'  she 
wuz  laughin'  an  talkin'  back  at  'im.  I  seed  'em 
bof  wid  my  own  eyes  des  ez  plain  ez  I  see  you 
now,  chile." 

"You  thought  you  did,  anyway." 

"Cose  I  did,  honey.  De  doors  is  all  locked  an' 
bolted  wid  new  iron  bolts — nuttin  but  sperets  kin 
get  in  dis  house  atter  dark — de  Jedge  he  sees  'em 
too — des  ez  plain  ez  I  did." 

"And  this  coward  is  set  to  rule  a  downtrodden 
people,"  John  muttered  fiercely  under  his  breath. 
"Yes  it's  easy,  he'll  do  what  I  tell  him  to-night,  or 
— I'll — use^ — the — power  I  wield — to — execute — 
the — judgment — of — a — just — God." 

"  What  you  say,  honey  ? "  Aunt  Julie  Ann  asked. 

"Nothing." 

"Dar's  de  Jedge  commin'  now,"  she  whispered, 
hastily  leaving. 


1 8  THE  TRAITOR 

John  kept  his  seat  in  sullen  silence  until  the 
shuffling  footsteps  of  his  enemy  had  descended 
the  stairs  and  crossed  half  the  space  of  the  hall. 

The  younger  man  rose  and  gazed  at  him  a 
moment,  his  eyes  flashing  with  hatred  he  could 
no   longer   mask. 

The  Judge  halted,  moved  his  feet  nervously 
and  fumbled  at  the  big  gold  watch-chain  he  wore 
across  his  ponderous  waist.  His  shifting  bead 
eyes  sought  the  floor,  and  then  he  suddenly  lifted 
his  drooping  head  like  a  turtle,  approached  John? 
in  a  fawning,  creeping,  half-walk,  half-shuffle, 
and  extended  his  hand. 

*'I  bid  you  welcome,  young  man,  to  the  old 
home  of  your  ancestors.  In  fact,  I'm  delighted 
to  see  you.  I  heard  to-day  that  you  would  prob- 
ably call  this  evening,  and  had  the  servants 
illuminate  every  room  in  your  honour." 

"Indeed!"  John  sneered. 

"Yes,  I've  wished  for  some  time  that  I  might  have 
such  an  opportunity  to  talk  things  over  with  you." 

John  had  turned  from  the  profi^ered  hand  and 
seated  himself  with  deliberate  insolence. 

"Thanks  for  the  illuminations  in  honour  of 
my  family!" 

The  sneer  with  which  he  spoke  was  not  lost  on 
the  Judge.  His  patronising  judicial  air,  so  newly 
acquired,  wavered  before  the  cold  threat  of  the 


THE  THREAT  19 

younger  man's  manner.  Yet  he  recovered  him- 
self sufficiently  to  say: 

"My  boy,  I  like  your  high  spirit,  but  I  must 
give  you  a  little  fatherly  advice. " 

"Seeing  that  my  own  father  at  present  cannot 
do  so." 

The  Judge  ignored  the  interruption  and  seated 
himself  w^ith  an  attempt  at  dignity. 

"Mr.  Graham,  you  must  recognise  the  author- 
ity of  the  United  States  Government.'* 

"Which  means  you?" 

"  I  was  compelled  to  make  an  example  of 
disloyalty." 

"You  disbarred  me  from  personal  malice." 

"For  your  treasonable  utterances." 

"  I  have  the  right  to  criticise  your  degradation  of 
the  judiciary  in  using  it  to  further  your  political 
ambitions." 

"  I  disbarred  you  for  treason  and  contempt  of 
court." 

John  rose  and  stood  glaring  at  the  judge  whose 
shifting  eyes  avoided  him. 

"Well,  you're  on  solid  ground  there,  your 
Honour!  Were  I  the  master  of  every  language 
of  earth,  past  master  of  all  the  dead  tongues  of 
the  ages,  a  genius  in  the  use  of  every  epithet  the 
rage  of  man  ever  spoke,  still  words  would  have  no 
power  to  express  my  contempt  for  you!" 


20  THE  TRAITOR 

The  Judge  shuffled  his  big  feet  as  if  to  rise. 

"Sit  still!"  John  growled.  "I've  come  here 
to-night  to  demand  of  you  two  things." 

"You're  in  no  position  to  demand  anything 
of  me!"  spluttered  Butler,  running  his  hand 
nervously  through   his   heavy  black   hair. 

"Two  things,'*  John  went  on  evenly:  "First 
revoke  your  order  and  restore  me  to  my  law 
practice  to-morrow  morning. " 

"  Not  until  you  apologise  for  your  criticism. " 

"That*s  what  I'm  doing  now.  I  profoundly 
regret  the  incident.  I  should  have  kicked  you 
across  the  street — criticism  was  an  error  of 
judgment." 

Butler  shambled  to  his  feet,  trembling  with 
rage,  pulled  nervously  at  his  beard  again  and 
gasped: 

"How  dare  you  insult  me  in  my  house!" 

"It's  my  house!"  flashed  the  angry  answer. 

"Your  house.?"  the  Judge  stammered,  again 
tugging  at  his  beard. 

"Yes,  sit  down." 

The  astonished  jurist  dropped  into  his  chair, 
his  shifting  basilisk  eyes  dancing  with  a  new 
excitement. 

"Your  house,  your  house — why,  what — what!" 

"Yes  and  you're  going  to  vacate  it  within  two 
weeks." 


THE  THREAT  21 

*'What  do  you  mean,  sir?"  demanded  the 
Judge,   plucking  up   his  courage  for  a   moment. 

"I  mean  that  the  distinguished  jurist,  Hugh 
Butler,  who  had  the  honour  of  presiding  over  the 
trial  of  Jefferson  Davis,  and  now  aspires  to  the 
leadership  of  his  party  in  the  South,  was  living  in 
a  stolen  house  when  he  delivered  his  famous 
charge  concerning  traitors  to  the  grand  jury,  that 
morning  in  Richmond.  It  is  with  peculiar  per- 
sonal pleasure  that  I  now  brand  you  to  your  face 
— coward,  liar,  perjurer,  thief!" 

John  paused  a  moment  to  watch  the  effects  of 
his  words  on  his  enemy.  The  cold  sweat  began 
to  appear  in  the  bald  spot  above  the  Judge's 
forehead,  and  his  answer  came  with  gasping 
feeble  emphasis: 

"I  bought  this  house  and  paid  for  it!" 

"Exactly!"  sneered  the  younger  man.  "But  I 
never  knew  until  I  got  this  letter" — he  drew  the 
letter  from  his  pocket — "just  how  you  came  to 
buy  a  house  which  cost  ^50,000  for  so  trifling  a 
sum  of  money. " 

"Who  wrote  that  letter  ?"  interrupted  the  Judge 
eagerly. 

"  Evidently  a  friend  of  yours,  once  high  in  your 
councils,  who  has  grown  of  late  to  love  you  as 
passionately  as  I  do.  And  I  think  he  could  put 
a  knife  into  your  ribs  with  as  much  pleasure," 


22  THE  TRAITOR 

The  Judge  winced  and  glanced  nervously  into 
the  galleries. 

"  Don't  worry,  your  Honour.  If  you  take  the 
medicine  I  prescribe,  amputation  will  not  be 
necessary.  Let  me  read  the  letter.  It's  brief 
but  to  the  point: 

To  John  Graham,  Esq. 

Dear  Sir:  The  secret  of  Butler's  possession  of  your 
estate  is  simple.  Under  his  authority  as  United  States 
Judge,  he  ordered  its  confiscation,  forced  his  wife  to  buy 
it  for  $2,800,  at  a  fake  sale,  which  had  not  been  advertised, 
and  later  had  it  reconveyed  to  him.  His  wife  refused  to 
live  in  the  house,  sent  her  daughter  to  school  in  Washington, 
and  died  two  years  later  from  the  conscious  dishonour  she 
had  been  obliged  at  least  in  secret  to  share.  A  suit  brought 
before  the  United  States  Supreme  Court  will  restore  your 
property,  hurl  a  scoundrel  from  the  bench,  and  cover  him 
with  everlasting  infamy, 

A  Former  Pal  of  His  Honour. 

*'An  anonymous  slanderer!"  snorted  the  Judge. 

*'Yet  he  expresses  himself  with  vigour  and 
accuracy,  and  his  words  are  backed  by  circum- 
stantial evidence." 

Butler  sprang  to  his  feet  livid  with  rage  crying: 

"John  Graham,  you're  drunk!" 

"Just  drunk  enough  to  talk  entertainingly  to 
you,  Judge." 


THE  THREAT  23 

"Will  yen  leave  my  house?  or  must  I  call  an 
officer  to  eject  you,  sir?"  he  thundered. 

"A  process  of  law  is  slow  and  expensive,  Judge," 
said  John  with  a  drawl.  "I  haven't  the  money 
at  present  to  waste  on  a  suit.  May  I  ask  when 
you  will  vacate  this  estate  ?" 

"When  ordered  to  do  so  by  the  last  court  of 
appeal,    sir!" 

John  looked  the  Judge  squarely  in  the  eye  and 
slowly  said: 

"You  are  before  the  last  court  of  appeal  now, 
and    it's    judgment    day." 

"  I  understand  your  threat,  sir,  but  I  want  to 
tell  you  that  your  Ku  Klux  Klan  has  had  its  day. 
The  President  is  aroused — Congress  has  acted. 
I'll  order  a  regiment  of  troops  to  this  town  to- 
morrow! Dare  to  lift  the  weight  of  your  little 
finger  against  my  authority  and  I'll  send  your 
crazy  old  father  to  the  county  poorhouse  and  you 
to  the  gallows — to    the  gallows!     I    warn    you!" 

John  took  a  step  closer  to  his  enemy,  towering 
over  his  slouchy  figure  menacingly,  and  said- 

"When  will  you  vacate  this  house?" 

Butler  grasped  the  back  of  his  chair,  trembling 
with  fury. 

"The  possession  of  this  estate  is  the  fulfillment 
of  one  of  the  proudest  ambitions  of  my  life." 

"When  will  you  get  out?" 


24  THE  TRAITOR 

"And  my  daughter  has  just  returned  to-day 
from  Washington,  a  beautiful  accomplished  wo- 
man, to  preside  over  it." 

"When — will — you — get — out  ?" 

"When  ordered  by  the  Supreme  Court  of  the 
United  States — or  when  I'm  carried  out — feet — 
foremost — through — that — door  1 " 

The  Judge  choked  with  anger. 

"Then,  until  we  meet  again!" 

John  bowed  with  mock  courtesy,  walked  across 
the  hall  to  the  alcove  and  took  his  hat  from  the 
rack  where  Aunt  Julie  Ann  had  hung  it,  just  as 
Stella  Butler  sprang  through  the  rear  entrance 
with  a  joyous  shout,  reached  at  a  bound  the 
Judge's  side  and  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck. 

"Oh!  Papa,  what  a  glorious  night!  Steve 
and  I  had  such  a  ride!"  The  Judge  placed  his 
hand  on  her  lips  and  whispered: 

"My  dear,  there's  someone  here." 

Stella  glanced  over  her  shoulder  and  saw  John 
fumbling  his  hat  in  embarrassment. 

"Why  it's  the  famous  Mr.  John  Graham — 
introduce  me,   quick!" 

"Not  to-night,  dear;  I  do  not  wish  you  to  know 
im. 

Stella  released  herself  and,  with  a  ripple  of 
girlish  laughter,  walked  boldly  over  to  John,  her 
face  wreathed  in  friendly  smiles. 


THE  THREAT  25 

"Mr.  Graham,  permit  me  to  introduce  myself, 
Stella  Butler.  My  father  has  just  forbidden  it. 
I  care  nothing  for  your  old  politics — shall  we  not 
be  friends  ?" 

She  extended  a  dainty  little  hand  and  John 
took  it  stammering  incoherently.  Never  had  he 
touched  a  hand  so  warm  and  tender  and  so  full 
of  vital  magnetism.  It  thrilled  him  with  strange 
confusion. 

Never  had  he  seen  a  vision  of  such  bewildering 
loveliness.  An  exquisite  oval  face  with  lines  like 
a  delicate  cameo,  cheeks  of  ripe-peach  red,  a  crown 
of  unruly  raven-black  hair,  and  big  brown  eyes 
shaded  by  heavy  lashes.  Her  dress  showed  the 
perfection  of  good  taste  and  careful  study — a 
yellow  satin,  trimmed  in  old  lace  that  fitted  her 
rounded  little  figure  without  a  wrinkle,  dainty 
feet  in  snow-white  stockings  and  bow-tipped 
slippers  that  peeped  in  and  out  mischievously  as 
she  walked,  and  with  it  all  a  magnetic  personality 
which  riveted  and  held  the  attention. 

He  stared  at  her  a  moment  dumb  with  wonder. 
Could  it  be  possible  that  a  girl  of  such  extraor- 
dinary beauty,  of  such  remarkable  character,  of 
such  appealing  manners  could  have  been  born  of 
such  a  father! 

*'As  the  new  mistress  of  your  old  home  let  me 
bid   you   a   hearty  welcome,   Mr.    Graham,"   she 


26  THE  TRAITOR 

said  softly.  "You  must  come  often  and  tell  me 
all  its  legends  and  ghost  stories  ?" 

The  Judge  shuffled  uneasily  and  cleared  his 
throat  with  nervous  anger. 

"Now  keep  still,  Papa!  Fm  going  to  make  this 
old  house  ring  with  joy  and  laughter.  I  won't 
have  any  of  your  political  quarrels.  I'm  going  to 
be  friends  with  everybody,  as  my  mother  was — 
they  say  she  was  a  famous  belle  in  her  day,  Mr. 
Graham  ?" 

"So  I  have  often  heard,"  John  answered  with 
increasing  confusion,  as  he  retreated  toward  the 
door. 

"You   will   come   again?" 

"I  hope  to  soon,"  he  gravely  answered  as  he 
bowed  himself  out  the  door. 


CHAPTER  II 

MR.    HOYLE    RECEIVES    A    SHOCK 

STEVE  HOYLE  had  called  early  at  the 
Judge's  to  see  Stella  the  morning  after 
John's  encounter  in  the  hall.  As  he  paced  rest- 
lessly back  and  forth  waiting  the  return  of  Stella's 
maid,  he  was  evidently  in  an  ugly  humour. 

When  he  heard  the  story  at  the  hotel  late  the 
night  before,  that  his  hated  rival  in  politics  and 
society  had  dared  to  venture  into  Judge  Butler's 
home,  he  could  not  believe  it.  And  the  idea  that 
Stella  should  receive  him  had  cut  his  vanity  to 
the   quick. 

The  richest  young  man  in  the  county,  he  aspired 
to  be  the  most  popular,  and  he  had  long  enjoyed 
the  distinction  in  the  estimation  of  his  friends  of 
being  the  handsomest  man  in  his  section  of  the 
state.  In  his  own  estimation  there  had  never 
been  any  question  about  this.  And  beyond  a 
doubt  he  was  a  magnificent  animal.  Six  feet  tall, 
a  superb  figure,  somewhat  coarse  and  heavy  in  the 
neck,  with  smooth,  regular  features.  He  was 
slightly  given  to  fat,  but  his  complexion  was  red 
and   clean   as   a   boy's,   and    he    might  well    be 

27 


28  THE  TRAITOR 

pardoned  his  vanity  when  one  remembered  his 
money. 

His  father,  the  elder  Hoyle,  who  had  avoided 
service  in  the  war  by  hiring  a  substitute,  had 
emerged  from  the  tragedy  far  wealthier  than  when 
he  entered  it.  Some  people  hinted  that  if  the 
Treasury  Agents,  who  had  stolen  the  cotton  of  the 
country  under  the  absurd  and  infamous  Con- 
fiscation Act  of  Congress,  would  speak,  they 
might  explain  this  fortune.  They  had  never 
spoken.  The  old  fox  had  been  too  clever  and 
his  tracks  were  all  covered. 

Steve  had  recently  met  Stella  at  one  of  her 
school  receptions  in  Washington  while  on  business 
for  his  father,  yielded  instantly  to  her  spell,  and 
they  were  engaged.  He  felt  that  he  had  conde- 
scended to  honour  the  Judge  by  marrying  into  his 
family. 

Butler  never  had  been  a  slave  owner,  and  in 
spite  of  his  fawning  ambitions  as  a  turncoat 
politician  and  social  aspirant,  he  was  still  poor — 
so  poor  in  fact  that  he  could  scarcely  keep  up 
appearances  in  the  Graham  mansion.  Steve 
planned  to  live  there  after  his  marriage  in  a  style 
befitting  his  wealth  and  social  position.  He  noted 
the  faded  covering  on  the  old  mahogany  furniture 
and  determined  to  make  it  shine  with  new  plush 
on  his  advent  as  master. 


MR.  HOYLE  RECEIVES  A  SHOCK     29 

He  walked  over  to  the  hall  mirror  and  adjusted 
his  tie.  He  was  getting  nervous.  Stella  was 
keeping  him  waiting  longer  than  usual.  She  was 
doing  this  to  tease  him,  but  he  would  have  his 
revenge  when  they  were  married. 

Steve  had  quickly  come  to  a  perfect  understand- 
ing with  the  Judge.  The  Piedmont  Congressional 
District,  which  included  several  mountain  counties, 
was  overwhelmingly  Democratic.  The  Judge, 
as  the  Republican  leader,  had  promised  Steve 
to  put  up  no  candidate,  but  to  support  him  as  an 
independent  if  the  approaching  Democratic  Con- 
vention nominated  John  Graham  for  Congress. 

Steve  as  a  man  of  capital  proclaimed  that  the 
money  interests  of  the  North  should  be  cultivated 
and  that  a  deal  with  the  enemy  was  always  better 
than  a  fight. 

Sure  of  his  success,  he  had  already  promised 
Stella  with  boastful  certainty  a  brilliant  social 
season  in  Washington  as  his  wife.  In  spite  of 
his  immense  vanity,  he  knew  that  this  promise 
had  o;one  far  to  win  her  favour.  She  too  was  vain 
of  her  beauty,  and  her  social  ambitions  were 
boundless.  He  had  received  her  mild  professions 
of  love  with  a  grain  of  salt.  She  was  yet  too  young 
and  beautiful  to  take  hfe  seriously.  His  fortune 
and  his  good  looks  had  been  the  magnets  that 
drew  her.     But  he  was  content.     He  would  make 


30  THE  TRAITOR 

her  love  him  in  due  time.  He  was  sure  of  it. 
Yet  on  two  occasions  he  had  observed  that  she  had 
shown  a  disposition  to  flirt  skilfully  and  daringly 
with  every  handsome  fellow  who  came  her  way — 
and  it  had  distressed  him  not  a  little. 

He  was  angry  and  uneasy  this  morning,  and 
made  up  his  mind  to  assert  his  rights  with  dignity 
— and  yet  with  a  firmness  that  would  leave  no 
question  as  to  who  was  going  to  be  master  in  his 
house.  He  decided  to  nip  Stella's  acquaintance 
with  John  Graham  in  the  bud  on  the  spot.  That 
he  had  called  for  any  other  reason  than  to  see  her, 
never  occurred  to  him. 

When  Maggie,  Stella's  Httle  coal  black  maid,  at 
length  reappeared,  she  was  grinning  with  more 
than  usual  cunning. 

"Miss  Stella  say  she  be  down  in  a  minute," 
she  said  with  a  giggle, 

*' You've  been  gone  a  half  hour,"  Steve  answered 
frowning. 

"  I  spec  I  is,"  observed  Maggie,  continuing  to 
giggle  and  glance  furtively  at  Steve. 

*' What's  the  matter  with  you.^"  he  asked 
suspiciously. 

*'Nuttin." 

He  held  up  a  quarter  and  beckoned.  She 
hastened    to    his    side, 

*'  I  want  us  to  be  good  friends." 


MR.  HOYLE  RECEIVES  A  SHOCK     31 

She  took  the  money,  grinned  again  and  said: 

*' Yassah!" 

*'Now,  what  have  you  been  gigghng  about  ?'* 

"Mr.  John  Graham  wuz  here  last  night!" 

"So  I  hear.     Did  he  see  Miss  Stella  ?" 

"Deed  he  did!  Dat's  what  dey  all  come  fur. 
She  so  purty  dey  can't  hep  it." 

"How  long  did  he  stay?" 

"Till    atter    midnight!" 

"Indeed!" 

"Yassah!"  Maggie  went  on,  walling  her  eyes 
with  tragic  earnestness.  "She  play  de  pianer 
fur  'im  long  time  in  de  parlour,  an'  he  sing  fur 
her  an'  den  she  sing  fur  him." 

Steve  cleared  his  throat  angrily. 

"Yassah!  an'  atter  dey  git  froo  singin'  she  take 
him  out  fur  er  stroll  on  de  lawn  an'  dey  go  way 
down  in  de  fur  corner  an'  set  in  one  er  dem  rustics 
fur  'bout  er  hour.  Den  dey  come  in  an'  bof  un 
'em  set  in  de  moonlight  in  de  hammock  right  close 
side  an'  side,  and  he  talk  low  an'  sof,  an'  she  laugh, 
an'  laugh,  an'  hit  'im  wid  er  fan — jesso!  Yassah. 
Sh!     She  comin'  now!" 

The  girl  darted  out  of  sight  as  Stella's  dress 
rustled  in  the  hall  above. 

Steve  pulled  himself  together  with  an  effort,  and 
met  her  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 

She  made  an  entrancing  picture  as  she  slowly 


32  THE  TRAITOR 

descended  the  steps,  serenely  conscious  of  her 
beauty  and  its  power  over  the  man  below  whose 
eyes  were  now  devouring  her.  The  flowing  train 
of  her  cream-coloured  morning  gown  made  her 
look  a  half  foot  taller  than  she  was.  She  had 
always  fretted  at  her  diminutive  stature,  and  wore 
her  dresses  the  extreme  length  to  give  her  added 
height. 

With  a  gracious  smile  she  welcomed  Steve  and 
he  attempted  to  kiss  her.  She  repulsed  him  firmly 
and  allowed  him  to  kiss  her  hand. 

"Stella  dear,"  he  began  petulantly,  with  an 
accent  of  offended  dignity,  "you  must  quit  this 
foolishness!  We  have  been  engaged  three  weeks 
and  I've  never  touched  your  lips.'* 

She  laughed  and  tossed  her  pretty  head. 

"And    we're    engaged!" 

"Not  yet  married,"  she  observed,  lifting  her 
arched  brows. 

"I  have  honoured  you  with  my  fortune  and  my 
life." 

"Thanks,"  she   interrupted    smiling. 

Steve  flushed  and  went  on  rapidly. 

"  Really,  Stella,  the  time  has  come  for  a  serious 
talk  between  us.'* 

She  seated  herself  at  the  piano  and  ran  her 
fingers  lightly  over  the  keys.  Steve  followed,  a 
frown  clouding  his  smooth  handsome  forehead. 


MR.  HOYLE  RECEIVES  A  SHOCK     33 

"Will  you  hear  me?"  he  asked. 

** Certainly!"  she  answered,  turning  on  him  her 
big  brown  eyes.  In  their  depths  he  might  have 
seen  a  sudden  dangerous  light,  had  he  been  less 
absorbed  in  himself.  As  it  was  he  only  saw  a 
smile  lurking  about  the  corners  of  her  lips  which 
irritated   him   the  more. 

"I  understand  that  John  Graham  called  on  you 
last   night.?" 

"Indeed,  I  hadn't  heard  it,"  she  answered 
lightly. 

"And  stayed  until  after  midnight." 

Stella  sprang  to  her  feet,  looked  steadily  at 
Steve,  frowned,  walked  to  the  door  and  called: 

"Maggie!" 

The  black  face  appeared  instantly. 

"Yassum!"  she  answered,  with  eager  inno- 
cence. 

"Have  you  said  anything  about  Mr.  Graham's 
visit  last  night .?" 

Maggie  walled  her  eyes  in  amazement  at  such 
an  outrageous     suspicion. 

"No,  M'am!  I  aint  open  my  mouf — has  I 
Mister  Steve?" 

"Certainly  not,"  Steve  answered  curtly. 

"I  thought  I  heard  your  voice  in  the  hall," 
Stella  continued,  looking  sternly  at  Maggie. 

"Nobum!  Twan'tme.     I  nebber  stop  er  second. 


34  THE  TRAITOR 

I  pass  right  straight  on  froo  de  hall — nebber  even 
look  t'ward  Mr.  Steve." 

"You  can  go,"  was  the  stern  command. 

"Yassum!"  Maggie  half  whispered,  backing 
out  the  door,  her  eyes  travelling  quickly  from  Steve 
to  her  mistress. 

"As  my  affianced  bride,"  he  went  on  firmly, 
"I  cannot  afford  to  have  you  receive  the  man  who 
is   my   bitterest  enemy." 

With  a  smile,  Stella  quickly  but  quietly  removed 
the  ring  from  her  hand  and  gave  it  to  Steve,  who 
stood  for  a  moment  paralysed  with  astonishment. 

"Stella!"  he  gasped. 

"The  burden  of  your  affianced  bride  is  too 
heavy  for  my  young  shoulders." 

"Forgive  me  dear!"  he  pleaded. 

"I  prefer  to  receive  whom  I  please,  when  and 
where  I  please,  without  consulting  you.  When 
I  need  a  master  to  order  my  daily  conduct,  I'll 
let  you  know. 

"But,  Stella,  dear!" 

"Miss  Butler — if  you  please!" 

"I — I  only  meant  to  tell  you  that  I  love  you 
desperately,  that  I'm  jealous  and  ask  you  not  to 
torture  me — you  cannot  mean  this,  dear?" 

"How  dare  you  address  me  in  that  manner 
again!"  she  cried,  flaming  with  anger,  the  tense 
little  figure  drawn  to  its  full  height. 


MR.  HOYLE  RECEIVES  A  SHOCK     35 

Steve  attempted  to  take  her  hand,  but  the 
fierce  hght  in  her  eyes  stopped  him  without  a 
word. 

"Leave  this  house  instantly!"  she  said,  with 
quiet  emphasis. 

With  deep  muttered  curses  in  his  soul  against 
John  Graham,  Steve  turned  and  left. 

As  he  passed  through  the  doorway,  a  black  face 
peeped  from  the  alcove  and  giggled. 


CHAPTER  III 

A   BLOW    IS    STRUCK 

TRUE  to  his  word  Butler  called  for  a  regiment 
of  United  States  troops. 

On  the  second  day  after  his  interview  with  the 
Judge,  John  Graham  watched  from  his  office 
window  the  blue  coats  march  through  the  streets 
of  Independence   to   their   camp. 

He  turned  to  his  chair  beside  a  quaint  old 
mahogany  desk  and  wrote  an  official  order  to 
each  of  the  eight  district  chiefs  of  the  Invisible 
Empire  who  were  under  his  command  in  the  state. 

When  he  had  finished  his  task  he  sat  for  an 
hour  in  silence  staring  out  of  his  window  and 
seeing  nothing  save  the  big  brown  eyes  of  a 
beautiful  girl — eyes  of  extraordinary  size  and 
brilliance  that  seemed  to  be  searching  the  depths 
of  his  soul.  It  was  a  new  and  startling  experience 
in  his  life.  He  had  made  love  harmlessly  after 
the  gallant  fashion  of  his  race  to  many  girls;  yet 
none  of  them  had  found  the  man  within. 

He  was  angry  with  himself  now  for  his  inability 
to  shake  off  the  impression  Stella  Butler  had 
made.     He  hated   her  very  name.     The  idea  of 

36 


A  BLOW  IS  STRUCK  37 

his  ever  seeking  the  hand  of  a  Butler  in  marriage 
made  him  shiver.  To  even  meet  her  socially 
with  such  a  father  was  unthinkable.  And  yet 
he  kept  thinking. 

Two  things  especially  about  her  haunted  him 
with  persistence  and  had  thrown  a  spell  over  his 
imagination — the  strange  appealing  tenderness 
of  her  eyes  and  the  marvellous  low  notes  of  her 
voice,  a  voice  at  once  musical,  and  warm  with 
slumbering  passion.  Her  voice  seemed  the  echo 
of  ravishing  music  he  had  heard  somewhere,  or 
dreamed  or  caught  in  another  world  he  fancied 
sometimes  his  soul  had  inhabited  before  reaching 
this.  Never  had  he  heard  a  voice  so  full  of  feel- 
ing, so  soft,  so  seductive,  so  full  of  tender  appeal. 
Its  every  accent  seemed   to  caress. 

He  cursed  himself  for  brooding  over  her  and 
then  came  back  to  his  brooding  with  the  certainty 
of  fate.  Yet  it  should  make  no  difference  in  his 
fight  with  old  Butler.  He  would  kick  that  fawn- 
ing, creeping  scoundrel  out  of  his  house  if  it  was 
the  last  and  only  thing  he  ever  accomplished  on 
earth.  The  only  question  he  still  debated  was 
the  time  and  method  of  the  execution  of  his  plan. 

One  thing  became  more  and  more  clear — he 
was  going  to  need  the  full  use  of  every  faculty 
with  which  God  had  endowed  him  and  he  must 
set  his  house  in  order. 


38  THE  TRAITOR 

He  opened  the  door  of  the  Httle  cupboard  above 
his  desk  and  took  from  it  a  decanter  of  moonshine 
whiskey  Dan  Wiley,  one  of  his  mountain  men,  had 
always  kept  filled  for  him.  From  the  drawer  he 
took  two  packs  of  cards  and  a  case  of  poker  chips. 
The  cards  and  chips  he  rolled  in  a  newspaper, 
placed  in  his  stove  and  set  them  on  fire.  He 
smiled  as  he  stood  and  listened  to  the  roar  of  the 
sudden  blaze.  He  raised  his  window  and  hurled 
the  red-eyed  decanter  across  the  vacant  lot 
in  the  rear  of  his  office  and  saw  it  break  into  a 
hundred  fragments  on  a  pile  of  stones. 

*' Wonder  what  Dan  will  say  to  that  when  he 
comes  this  morning?"  he  exclaimed,  looking  at 
his  watch  and  resuming  his  seat. 

He  heard  a  stealthy  footfall  at  the  door,  turned 
and  saw  the  tall  lanky  form  of  the  mountaineer 
smiling  at   him. 

"Well,  Chief,  you  sent  for  me?" 

"Yes,  come  in  Dan!" 

Dan  Wiley  tipped  in  and  stood  pulling  his  long 
moustache   thoughtfully,    before   taking   a    chair. 

"What's  on  your  mind?"  asked   John. 

"I  heered  somethin'." 

"About  me?" 

"Yes,  and  it  pestered  me." 

"Well?" 

"They  say  you  got  drunk  night  'fore  last." 


A  BLOW  IS  STRUCK  39 

"And  you're  going  to  preach  me  a  sermon  on 
temperance,  you  confounded  old  moonshining 
distilling  sinner!" 

"Ye  mustn't  git  drunk,"  observed  Dan  seriously. 

"  But,  didn't  you  bring  me  the  whiskey  ?" 

"Not  to  git  drunk  on.  I  brought  it  as  a  com- 
pliment. My  whiskey's  pure  mountain  dew,  life 
restorer — it's  medicine." 

"It's  good  whiskey,  I'll  say  that,"  said  John. 
"Even  if  you  don't  pay  taxes  on  it.  You  brought 
the  men  .?" 

"Yes,  but  Chief,  I'm  oneasy. " 

"What  about.?" 

"Don't  like  the  looks  er  them  dam  Yankees. 
I'm  a  member  er  the  church  an'  a  law  abidin' 
citizen." 

"Yet  I  hear  that  a  revenue  officer  passed  away 
in  your  township  last  fall." 

"  Rattlesnakes  and  Revenue  officers  don't  count 
— they   ain't   human." 

"I  see!"  laughed  John. 

"Say,"  Dan  whispered,  "you  ain't  calculatin' 
ter  make  a  raid  ter-night  with  them  thousand  blue- 
coats  paradin'  round  this  town,  are  ye  ?" 

"That's  my  business,  Dan,"  was  John's  smiling 
answer.  "  It's  your  business  as  a  faithful  night- 
hawk  of  the  Empire  to  obey  orders.  Are  you 
ready.?" 


40  THE  TRAITOR 

*'WelI,  Chief,  I  followed  you  four  years  in  the 
war,  an'  I've  never  showed  the  white  feather  yet, 
but  these  is  ticklish  times.  There's  a  powerful 
lot  er  damfools  gettin'  ermongst  us,  an'  I  want  ter 
ax  ye  one  question  ?" 

"What?" 

"Are  ye  goin'  ter  git  drunk  ter-night?" 

John  walked  to  Dan's  side  and  placed  his  hand 
on  his  shoulder,  and  said  slowly: 

"I'll  never  touch  another  drop  of  liquor  as  long 
as  I  live.     Does  that  satisfy  you?" 

"I  never  knowd  a  Graham  ter  break  his  word." 

John  pressed  the  mountaineer's  hand. 

"Thanks  Dan." 

"I'm  with  you — and  I'll  charge  the  mouth  of 
the  pit  with  my  bare  hands  if  you  give  the  order." 

"Good.  Meet  me  at  the  spring  in  the  woods 
behind  the  old  cemetery  at  eleven  o'clock  to-night 
with  forty  picked  men." 

"Forty! — better  make  it  an  even  thousand,  man 
for  man  with  the  Yanks. " 

"Just  forty  men,  mark  you — picked  men,  not 
a  boy  or  a  fool  among  them. " 

"I  understand,"  said  Dan,  turning  on  his  heel 
toward  the  door. 

"And  see  to  it" — called  John — "I  want  them 
mounted  on  the  best  horses  in  the  county  and 
every  man  armed  to  the  teeth." 


A  BLOW  IS  STRUCK  41 

Dan  nodded  and  disappeared. 

By  eight  o'clock  the  town  was  in  a  ferment  of 
excitement  and  the  streets  were  crowded  with 
feverish  groups  discussing  a  rumour  which  late  in 
the  afternoon  had  spread  like  wild-fire.  From 
some  mysterious  source  had  come  the  announce- 
ment that  a  great  Ku  Klux  parade  was  to  take 
place  in  Independence  at  midnight  for  the  purpose 
of  overawing  if  not  attacking  the  regiment  of 
soldiers,  which  had  just  been  quartered  in 
the  town. 

By  eleven  o'clock  the  entire  white  population, 
men,  women  and  children,  were  crowding  the  side- 
walks of  the  main  street. 

Billy  Graham  passed  John's  office  with  Susie 
Wilson  leaning  on  his  arm.  Billy  was  in  high 
feather  and  Susie  silent  and  depressed. 

"Great  Scott,  Miss  Susie,  what's  the  matter.? 
This  isn't  a  funeral.  It's  a  triumphant  demon- 
stration of  power  to  our  oppressors." 

"I  wish  they  wouldn't  do  it  with  all  these  troops 
in  town,"  answered  the  girl,  anxiously  glancing 
at  the  dark  window  of  John's  office. 

"  Bah !  The  Ku  Klux  have  been  getting  pusillan- 
imous of  late — haven't  been  on  a  raid  in  six 
months.  They  need  a  leader.  Give  me  a  hun- 
dred of  those  white  mounted  men  and  I'd  be  the 
master  of  this  county  in  ten  days!" 


42  THE  TRAITOR 

"It's  a  dangerous  job,   Billy." 

"That's  the  only  kind  of  a  job  that  interests 
me.  A  dozen  wholesome  raids  would  put  these 
scalawags  and  carpetbaggers  out  of  business. 
There  ought  to  be  five  thousand  men  in  line  to- 
night. I'll  bet  they  don't  muster  a  thousand.  It 
wouldn't  surprise  me  if  they  backed  out 
altogether." 

"I  wish  they  would,"  sighed  Susie. 

"Of  course  you  do,  little  girl,"  said  Billy  with 
sudden  patronising  tenderness.  "  I  know  what 
you  need." 

Susie   smiled   and   asked   demurely: 

"What?" 

Billy  seized  both  her  hands  and  drew  her  under 
the  shadow  of  a  tree. 

"A  strong  manly  breast  on  which  to  lean — 
Susie,  my  Darling,  I  love  you!  Will  you  be  my 
wife  ?'* 

Susie  burst  into  a  fit  of  laughter  and  Billy 
dropped  her  hands  in  rage. 

"You  treat  the  offer  of  my  heart  as  a  senseless 
joke,  young  woman  ?" 

"No,  Billy  dear,  I  don't.  I  appreciate  it  more 
than  words  can  express.  You  have  paid  me  the 
highest  tribute  a  girl  can  receive,  but  the  idea  of 
marrying  a  boy  of  your  age  is  ridiculous!" 

"Ridiculous!       Ridiculous!       How    dare    you 


A  BLOW  IS  STRUCK  43 

insult  me?  I'm  as  old  as  you  are!"  thundered 
Billy. 

"Yes,  we  are  each  eighteen." 

"And  your  mother  married  at  sixteen." 

"And  she's  still  only  sixteen,"  said  the  girl 
with   a   sigh. 

"Wait  a  few  days  and  I'll  show  you  whether 
I'm  a  man  or  not,"  said  Billy,  with  insulted  dig- 
nity. "Come,  your  mother  is  waiting  for  us  at 
the  corner." 

Mrs.  Wilson  stood  among  a  group  of  boys 
chatting  and  joking.  She  belonged  to  the  type 
of  widows,  fair,  fat  and  frivolous.  Time  had 
dealt  gently  with  her.  She  was  still  handsome 
in  spite  of  her  weight,  and  intensely  jealous  lest 
her  serious  daughter  supplant  her  in  the  affections 
of  the  youth  of  Independence. 

She  greeted  Billy  with  just  the  words  to  heal  his 
wounded    vanity. 

"My!  Billy,  but  you  look  serious  and  manly! 
I'd  kiss  you  if  the  other  boys  were  not  here.  You 
ought  to  be  at  the  head  of  that  line  of  white  raiders 
to-night" — she  dropped  her  voice  to  a  whisper — 
"I'll  be  making  your  disguise  before  long." 

Billy  turned  from  Susie  and  devoted  himself 
with  dignity  to  her  mother. 

The  widow  lifted  her  hand  in  sudden  warning. 

"Sh!  Billy,  the  enemy!  There  goes  Stella  Butler 


44  THE  TRAITOR 

with  that  fat  little  detective  whom  the  Judge  has 
imported  with  the  troops." 

"Captain"  Suggs  of  the  Secret  Service  was  more 
than  duly  impressed  with  his  importance  as  he 
forced  his  pudgy  figure  through  the  throng  on  the 
sidewalk,  ostentatiously  protecting  Stella  from 
the  touch  of  the  crowd. 

**It*s  arrant  nonsense,  Miss  Stella,"  he  was 
saying,  as  they  passed.  ''These  Southern  people 
are  savages,  I  know " 

"Why,  Captain,  I'm  a  Southerner  too,"  said  the 
girl  archly. 

"  I  mean  the  disloyal  traitors  of  the  South — not 
the  broad-minded  patriots  like  your  father," 
Suggs  hastened  to  explain.  "I  say  it's  arrant 
nonsense  this  talk  of  such  a  parade  by  these 
traitors.  I  credit  them  with  too  much  cunning  to 
dare  to  flaunt  their  treason  in  the  streets  here 
to-night  with  a  regiment  of  troops  and  the  head  of 
the  Secret  Service  on  the  spot." 

The  little  fellow  expanded  his  chest  and  puffed 
his  cheeks. 

Billy  doubled  his  fist,  and  made  a  dash  for  him. 

With  a  suppressed  scream,  Mrs.  Wilson  caught 
him. 

"Billy!  for  heaven's  sake,  are  you  crazy!" 

They  passed  on  down  the  street  toward  the 
Judge's   house, 


A  BLOW  IS  STRUCK  45 

"I'm  not  so  sure  they  will  not  parade,  Mr. 
Suggs,"  Stella  replied. 

"Don't  be  alarmed,  Miss  Stella!"  he  urged 
soothingly.  "I've  taken  ample  means  to  protect 
you  and  your  father  from  any  attack  of  these 
assassins  and  desperadoes  if  they  dare  enter  the 
town." 

"I'm  not  afraid  of  them.  Captain,  she  answered 
lightly. 

"Of  course  not — we're  here  and  ready  for  them. 
The  very  audacity  of  their  manner  is  an  insult  to 
the  Government." 

"I  like  audacity.  It  stirs  your  blood,"  Stella 
cried,  her  brown  eyes  twinkling. 

Suggs  leaned   nearer  and   said   in   his   deepest 


voice 


Let  them  dare  this  insult  to  authority  to-night 
and  you'll  see  audacity  come  to  sudden  grief  in 
front  of  your  father's  house." 

"Have  you  prepared  an  ambush?"  Stella 
asked  eagerly. 

"Better.  We've  an  extra  hundred  loyal  police- 
men on  the  spot.  Each  of  them  is  sworn  to 
capture  dead  or  ahve  any  Ku  Klux  raider  who 
shows  his  head.  I  hope  they'll  come — but  it's 
too  good  to  be  true.  With  a  dozen  prisoners  safe 
in  jail,  before  to-morrow  dawns  I'll  have  the  secrets 
of  the  Klan  in  my  pocket.     I'll  make  things  hum 


46  THE  TRAITOR 

in  Washington.  Watch  me.  It's  the  big  oppor- 
tunity of  life  I've  been  waiting  for — my  only  fear 
is  I'll  miss  it." 

"I  think  you'll  get  it,  Mr.  Suggs,"  was  the 
laughing  answer. 

She  had  scarcely  spoken,  when  a  tow-headed 
boy  rushed  into  the  middle  of  the  street  and 
yelled," 

"Gee  bucks!  Look  out!  They're  a  comin'!" 

Men,  women  and  children  rushed  into  the  street. 

Suggs  stood  irresolute  and  tightened  his  grip 
on  Stella's  arm. 

Down  the  street  cheers  burst  forth  and  as  they 
died  away  the  clatter  of  horses'  hoofs  rang  clear, 
distinct,  defiant.  They  were  riding  slowly  as  in 
dress   parade. 

Another  cheer  was  heard  and  Suggs  stepped 
into   the   street  and   reconnoitred. 

His  face  wore  a  puzzled  look  as  he  returned  to 
Stella's  side. 

"They've  actually  ridden  past  the  regimental 
camp.  I  can't  understand  why  the  Colonel  did 
not  attack  them." 

"Gee  Whilikens,  there's  a  million  of  'em!" 
cried  a  boy  nearby. 

"Perhaps  the  Colonel  thought  discretion  the 
better  part  of  valour,  Mr.  Suggs,"  suggested  Stella 
smilingly. 


A  BLOW  IS  STRUCK  47 

"Red  tape,"  the  detective  explained  with  dis- 
gust—  "he  has  no  order.  Just  wait  until  the 
assassins  walk  into  the  trap  I've  laid  for  them. 
Come,  we  will  hurry  to  your  gate.  I  want  you  to 
see  what  happens." 

They  crossed  the  street  and  hurried  to  the 
Judge's  place. 

Suggs  summoned  the  commander  of  his  force 
of  "metropolitan"  police  and  in  short  sharp  tones 
gave  his  orders. 

"Are  your  men  all  ready,  officer?" 

"Yessirl" 

"Fully  armed?" 

"You  bet." 

"Handcuffs  ready?" 

"All  ready." 

"Good.  Throw  your  line,  double  column, 
across  the  street,  stop  the  parade  and  arrest  them 
one  at  a  time." 

Suggs  squared  his  round  shoulders  as  best  he 
could;  the  officer  saluted  and  returned  to  his  place 
to  execute  the  order. 

When  the  cordon  formed  across  the  street  the 
boys  yelled  and  the  news  flashed  from  lip  to 
lip  far  down  the  line.  A  great  crowd  quickly 
gathered  surging  back  and  forth  in  waves  of 
excitement  as  the  raiders  approached. 

The  white  ghostlike  figures  could  now  be  seen. 


48  THE  TRAITOR 

the  draped  horse  and  rider  appearing  of  gigantic 
size   in   the   shimmering  moonhght. 

"Now  we'll  have  some  fun,"  exclaimed  Suggs 
with    a    triumphant    smile. 

Stella  trembled  with  excitement,  two  bright 
red  spots  appearing  on  her  dimpled  cheeks,  her 
eyes  sparkling. 

Amid  constant  cheers  from  the  crowds  the  line 
of  white  figures  slowly  approached  the  cor- 
don of  police  without  apparently  noticing  their 
existence. 

"Now  for  the  climax  of  the  drama!"  cried 
Suggs,  watching  with  eager  interest  the  rapidly 
closing  space  between  the  Clansmen  and  his 
police. 

The  officer  in  command,  noting  an  uneasy  ten- 
sion along  his  lines,  crossed  the  street  in  front  of 
his  men  exhorting  them. 

"Stand  your  ground,  boys!"  he  said  firmly. 

"Better  save  your  hides,  you  scalawag  skunks!" 
yelled  an  urchin  from  the  crowd. 

The  leader  of  the  Klan  was  now  but  ten  feet 
away,  towering  tall,  white  and  terrible,  with  an 
apparently  interminable  procession  of  mounted 
ghosts  behind  him. 

The  line  of  poHce  swayed  in  the  centre. 

The  Clansman  leader  lifted  his  hand,  and  the 
shrill  scream  of  his  whistle  rang  three  times,  and 


A  BLOW  IS  STRUCK  49 

each  white  figure  answered  with  a  long  piercing 
cry. 

The  poHce  cordon  broke  into  scurrying  frag- 
ments and  melted  into  the  throngs  on  the  sidewalks, 
while  the  procession  of  white  and  scarlet  horse- 
men, without  a  pause,  passed  slowly  on  amid 
shouts  of  laughter  from  the  people  who  had 
witnessed  the  fiasco. 

"Well,  I'll  be  d !  excuse  me.  Miss  Stella!" 

Suggs  cried  in  a  stupor  of  blank  amazement,  his 
round  little  figure  suddenly  collapsing  like  a 
punctured  balloon. 

"You  can't  help  admiring  such  men.  Captain!" 
the  girl  laughed. 

Suggs  who  had  lost  the  power  of  speech  wan- 
dered among  the  crowd  in  search  of  his  command- 
ing officer. 

As  the  parade  passed  the  Judge's  gate,  Stella 
stood  wide-eyed,  tense  with  excitement,  watching 
the  tall  horseman  with  two  scarlet  crosses  on  his 
breast  who  led  the  procession. 

"The  spirit  of  some  daring  knight  of  the  middle 
ages  come  back  to  earth  again!"  she  cried.  "Su- 
perb! Superb!  I  could  surrender  to  such  a 
man! 

A  lace  handkerchief  fluttered  from  her  bosom 
and  waved  a  moment  above  her  head.  The  tall 
figure  turned  in  astonishment,  bowed,  tipped  his 


50  THE  TRAITOR 

spiked  helmet,  and  without  reaHsing  it  suddenly 
reined  his  horse  to  a  stand — and  the  whole  line 
halted. 

The  leader  whispered  to  a  tall  figure  by  his  side, 
apparently  his  orderly,  who  turned  to  the  line 
behind  and  shouted." 

"Boys!  three  cheers  for  the  little  gal  at  the 
gate!  She's  all  right!  The  purtiest  little  gal  in  the 
countee — oh!" 

A  rousing  cheer  rose  from  the  ranks. 

A  ripple  of  sweet  girlish  laughter  broke  the 
silence  which  followed,  the  lace  handkerchief 
fluttered  again  and  the  line  moved  slowly  on. 

Stella  counted  them. 

"Only  forty  men.  And  they  dared  a  regiment!" 
With  another  laugh,  she  deserted  Suggs  and  dis- 
appeared in  the  flowers  and  shrubbery  toward  the 
house  as  the  last  echoes  of  the  raiders  died  away 
in  the  distance. 

The  Clansmen  descended  a  hill,  turned  sharply 
to  the  right  toward  the  river  and  broke  into  a 
quick  gallop.  Within  thirty  minutes  they  entered 
a  forest  on  the  river  bank,  and  down  its  dim  aisles, 
lit  by  moonbeams,  slowly  wound  their  way  to  their 
old   rendezvous. 

The  signal  was  given  to  dismount  and  disrobe 
the  horses.  Within  a  minute  the  white  figures 
gathered  about  a  newly  opened  grave.*^ 


A  BLOW  IS  STRUCK  51 

The  men  began  to  whisper  excitedly  to  one 
another. 

"What's   this?" 

"What's  the  matter?" 

"Who's  dead?" 

"You're  too  many  for  me!" 

"What's  up,  Steve  Hoyle?"  asked  one  of  the 
raiders. 

"  It's  beyond  me,  sonny.  The  Grand  Dragon 
of  the  State  honours  us  with  his  presence  to-night 
and  is  in  command — he  will  no  doubt  explain. 
Have  a  drink."  He  handed  the  group  a  flask  of 
whiskey,  and  passed  on. 

When  the  men  had  assembled  beside  the 
shallow  grave,  the  chaplain  led  in  prayer. 

The  tall  figure  with  the  double  scarlet  cross  on 
his  breast  removed  his  helmet  and  faced  the  men. 

"Boys,"  began  John  Graham,  "you  have 
assembled  here  to-night  for  the  last  time  as 
members  of  the  Invisible  Empire!" 

"Hell!" 

"What's  that?" 

The  exclamations,  half  incredulous,  half  angry, 
came  from  every  direction  with  suddenness  and 
unanimity  which  showed  the  men  to  be  utterly 
unprepared  for  such  an  announcement. 

"Yes,"  the  even  voice  went  on,  "I  hold  in  my 
hand  an  official  order  of  the  Grand  Wizard  of  the 


52  THE  TRAITOR 

Empire,  dissolving  its  existence  for  all  time.  Our 
Commander-in-chief  has  given  the  v^^ord.  As 
loyal  members  of  the  order,  we  accept  his  message." 

"Then  our  parade  to-night  w^as  not  a  defiance 
of  these  soldiers  w^ho  have  marched  into  tov^^n?'* 
sneered  a  voice. 

"No,  Steve  Hoyle,  it  was  not.  Our  parade 
to-night  was  in  accordance  with  this  order  of 
dissolution.  It  was  our  last  formal  appearance. 
Our  work  is  done " 

Steve  saw  in  a  flash  his  opportunity  to  defeat 
his  enemy  and  make  himself  not  only  the  master 
of  his  Congressional  District  but  of  the  state  itself. 

"Not  by  a  damn  sight!"  snapped  the  big  square 
jaw. 

"You  refuse  as  the  commander  of  this  district 
to  obey  the  order  of  the  Grand  Wizard  ?"  asked 
the  tall  quiet  figure. 

"  I  refuse,  John  Graham,  to  accept  your  word 
as  the  edict  of  God!"  was  the  quick  retort.  "Our 
men  can  vote  on  this  and  decide  for  themselves." 

"Yes,   vote  on   it!" 

"We'll    decide   for   ourselves!" 

The  quick  responses  which  came  from  all  sides 
showed  the  temper  of  the  men.  John  Graham 
stepped  in  front  of  the  big  leader  of  the  district. 

"Look  here,  Steve  Hoyle,  I  want  no  trouble 
with    you    to-night,  nor  in    the  future — but  I'm 


Some  of  the  men  we/e  sobbing" 


A  BLOW  IS  STRUCK  53 

going  to  carry  this  order  into  execution  here  and 


now." 


"Let's  see  you  do  it!"  was  the  defiant  answer. 

"I   will,"    he   continued.     "Boys!" 

There  was  the  ring  of  conscious  authority  in  his 
tones  and  the  men  responded  with  sharp  attention. 

"You  have  each  sworn  to  obey  your  superior 
officer  on  the  penalty  of  your  hfe  ?" 

"Yes!" 

"You  are  men  of  your  word.  As  the  Grand 
Dragon  of  the  State  I  command  you  to  deliver  to 
me  immediately  your  helmets  and  robes." 

With  the  precision  of  soldiers  they  deposited 
them  in  the  open  grave.  Steve  Hoyle  surrendered 
his  last. 

When  all  had  been  placed  in  the  grave,  John 
Graham  removed  his  own,  reverently  placed  it 
with  the  others,  tied  two  pieces  of  pine  into  the 
form  of  the  fiery  cross,  lighted  its  ends,  drew  the 
ritual  of  the  Klan  from  his  pocket,  set  it  on  fire 
and  held  it  over  the  grave  while  the  ashes  slowly 
fell  on  the  folds  of  the  white  and  scarlet  regalia 
which  he  also  ignited.  Some  of  the  men  were 
sobbing.  While  the  regalia  rapidly  burned  he 
turned  and  said: 

"Boys,  I  thank  you.  You  have  helped  me  do 
a  painful  thing.  But  it  is  best.  Our  work  is 
done.     We  have  rescued  our  state   from   Negro 


54  THE  TRAITOR 

rule.  We  dissolve  this  powerful  secret  order  in 
time  to  save  you  from  persecution,  exile,  imprison- 
ment and  death.  The  National  Government 
is  getting  ready  to  strike.  When  the  blow  falls  it 
will  be  on  the  vanished  shadow  of  a  ghost.  There's 
a  time  to  fight,  and  a  time  to  retreat.  We  retreat 
from  a  field  of  victory. 

"I  should  have  dissolved  the  Klan  a  month  ago. 
I  confess  to  you  a  secret.  I  waited  because  I 
meant  to  strike  with  it  a  blow  at  a  personal  enemy. 
I  realise  now  that  I  stood  as  your  leader  on  the 
brink  of  the  precipice  of  social  anarchy.  Forgive 
me  for  the  wrong  I  might  have  done,  had  you 
followed  me.  As  Grand  Dragon  of  the  Empire 
I  declare  this  order  dissolved  forever  in  the  state 
of  North  Carolina!" 

He  seized  a  shovel  and  covered  with  earth  and 
leaves  the  ashes  of  the  burned  regalia. 

Steve  Hoyle  stepped  quickly  in  front  of  his  rival. 
The  veins  on  his  massive  neck  stood  out  like  cords 
and  his  eyes  shone  ominously  in  the  moonlight. 
The  slender  figure  of  John  Graham  instinctively 
stiffened  at  the  threat  of  his  movement  as  the  two 
men  faced  each  other. 

"The  Klan  is  now  a  thing  of  the  past .?"  asked 
Steve. 

"Yes." 

"As  though  it  had  never  been.?" 


A  BLOW  IS  STRUCK  55 

*'As  though  it  had  never  existed." 

"Then  your  authority  is  at  an  end  ?" 

"As  an  officer  of  the  Klan,  yes.  As  a  leader  of 
men,  no. " 

"The  officer  only  interests  me — Boys!"  Steve's 
angry  voice  rang  with  defiance. 

The  men  gathered  closer. 

"The  Invisible  Empire  is  no  more.  Its  officers 
are  as  dead  as  the  ashes  of  its  ritual.  Meet  me 
here  to-morrow  night  at  eleven  o'clock  to  organise 
a  new  order  of  patriots!     Will  you  come  V 

"Yes!" 

"You  bet  your  life!" 

The  answers  seemed  to  leap  from  every  throat 
at  the  same  moment. 

John  Graham's  face  went  white  for  a  moment 
and  his  fist  closed. 

"Patriotism  is  the  last  refuge  of  a  scoundrel, 
Steve  Hoyle, "  he  said  with  slow  emphasis. 

"And  traitors  pose  as  moral  leaders,"  was  the 
retort. 

"Time  will  show  which  of  us  is  a  traitor.  Will 
you  dare  thus  to  defy  me  and  reorganise  this 
Klan?" 

"Wait  and  see!** 

John  Graham  stepped  close  to  his  rival,  and, 
in  a  low  voice  unheard  save  by  the  man  to  whom 
he  spoke,  said: 


56  THE  TRAITOR 

"Take  back  that  order  and  tell  those  men  to 
go  home  and  stay  there." 

"I'll  see  you  in  hell  first!"  came  the  answer  in 
a  growl. 

Scarcely  had  the  words  passed  his  lips  when 
John  Graham's  fist  shot  into  his  rival's  face. 

The  blow  was  delivered  so  quickly  Steve's 
heavy  form  struck  the  ground  before  the  aston- 
ished men  could  interfere. 

In  a  moment  a  dozen  men  sprang  between 
them  and  John  said  with  quiet  emphasis,  glaring 
at  his  enemy: 

"I'll  be  in  my  office  at  ten  o'clock  to-morrow 
morning,  to  receive  any  communication  you  may 
wish    to    make — you    understand!" 

And  deliberately  mounting  his  horse,  he  rode 
away  into  the  night  alone. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE    OLD    CODE 

JOHN  GRAHAM  walked  briskly  to  his  office 
the  next  morning  at  a  quarter  to  ten,  and  found 
Dan  Wiley  standing  at  the  door. 

The  lank  mountaineer  merely  nodded,  followed 
the  young  lawyer  into  the  office,  and  stood  in 
silence  watching  him  as  he  opened  a  case  of  duelling 
pistols  which  had  been  handed  down  through 
four  generations  of  his  family. 

"Don't  do  it,"  said  Dan  abruptly. 

"I've  got  to." 

"Ain't  no  sense  in  it." 

"  It's  the  only  way,  Dan,  and  I'm  going  to  ask 
you  to  be  my  second." 

Dan  placed  his  big  rough  hand  on  the  younger 
man's  shoulders. 

"Lemme  be  fust,  not  second." 

"It's  not  my  way!" 

"That's  why  I'm  axin  ye.  You're  the  biggest 
man  in  the  state!  I  seed  it  last  night  as  ye  stood 
there  makin'  that  speech  to  the  boys.  You'll 
be  the  Governor  if  ye  don't  do  some  fool  thing 
Uke  this.     If  ye  fight  'im,  an'  he  kills  ye,  your'e  a 

57 


58  THE  TRAITOR 

goner.     If  you    kill    him,    you're    ruined — what's 
the  use  ?" 

"It  can't  be  helped,"  was  the  quiet  answer. 

"Are  ye   goin'   ter   kill   'im?" 

"Yes.  The  Klan  was  the  only  way  to  save 
our  civilisation,  I've  sowed  the  wind  and  now  I 
begin  to  see  that  somebody  must  reap  the  whirl- 
wind. I  realised  it  all  in  a  flash  last  night  when 
that  scoundrel  called  the  men  to  reorganise. " 

"They  won't  follow  him." 

"The  fools  will,  and  there  are  thousands  outside 
clamouring  to  get  in.  I've  kept  the  young  and 
reckless  out  as  far  as  possible.  Steve  Hoyle  knows 
that  he  can  beat  me  for  Congress  with  this  new 
vv^ildcat  Klan  at  his  back.  He  hasn't  sense  enough 
to  see  that  the  spell  of  authority  once  broken,  he 
wields  a  power  no  human  hand  can  control.  It 
will  be  faction  against  faction,  neighbour  against 
neighbour,  man  against  man — the  end  martial 
law,  prison  bars  and  the  shadow  of  the  gallows. 
I  can  save  the  lives  of  thousands  of  men,  and  my 
state  from  crime  and  disgrace  by  killing  this  fool 
as  I'd  kill  a  mad  dog,  and  I'm  going  to  do  it!" 

"Hit'll  ruin  ye,  boy!" 
1  know  It. 

"Look  here,  John  Graham,  do  me  a  special 
favour.  Leave  Steve  to  me.  My  wife's  dead 
and  I  aint  got  a  chick  or  a  child — you've  defended 


THE  OLD  CODE  59 

me  without  a  cent  and  you're  the  best  friend  I've 
got  in  the  world.  It's  my  turn  now.  Nobody 
would  miss  me. " 

"I'd  miss  you,  Dan!"  said  John  slowly. 

The  two  men  silently  clasped  hands  and  looked 
into  each  other's  faces. 

"You're  a  fool  to  do  this,  boy" — the  moun- 
taineer's voice  broke. 

"Of  course,  Dan,  many  of  our  old-fashioned 
ways  are  foolish  but  at  least  they  hold  the  honour 
of  man,  and  the  virtue  of  woman  dearer  than 
human  life!" 

A  boy  suddenly  opened  the  door  without  knock- 
ing and  handed  John  a  note. 

He  read  it  aloud  with  a  scowl: 

My  friends  have  decided  that  I  shall  not  play  into  your 
hands  by  an  absurd  appeal  to  the  Code  of  the  Dark  Ages. 
I'll  fight  you  in  my  own  way  at  a  time  and  place  of  my  own 
choosing   and   with    weapons    that    will    be    effective. 

Steve  Hoyle. 

"Now,  by  gum,  you'll  have  to  leave  'im  to  me," 
laughed   the   mountaineer. 

John  tore  the  note  into  bits  and  turned  to  the 
boy: 

"No  answer,  you  can  go." 

"He'll  pick  you  off  some  night  from  behind 
a  tree,"  warned  Dan. 

"Sneak  and  coward!"  muttered  John. 


6o  THE  TRAITOR 

"Ye  won't  let  me  help  ye  ?" 

"No,  go  home  and  disband  your  men." 

"May  they  keep  the  rig?" 

"  If  you  won't  go  on  a  raid." 

"I'll  not,  unless  you  need  me,  John  Graham," 
cried  the  mountaineer  grasping  again  his  young 
leader's  hand. 

"All  right.  I  can  trust  you.  Keep  their 
costumes  in  your  house  under  lock  and  key  until 
I  call  for  them." 

As  Dan  turned  slowly  through  the  door  he 
drawled  over  his  shoulder:  "You'll  need  'em 
purty  quick!" 


CHAPTER  V 

GRAHAM    VS.    BUTLER 

WHEN  Dan  Wiley  closed  the  door  John 
turned  to  his  desk  and  drew  from  a  pigeon 
hole  the  mass  of  legal  papers  containing  the  evi- 
dence he  had  gathered  of  Butler's  theft  of  his 
estate. 

The  dissolution  of  the  Klan  had  left  him  only 
the  process  of  the  law  by  which  to  recover  it. 
Yet  it  was  only  a  question  of  time  when  the  decision 
of  the  Supreme  Court  would  hurl  the  Judge  from 
the  Graham  home  and  arraign  him  for  impeach- 
ment. 

Now  that  he  was  ready  to  file  the  suit,  his  mind 
was  in  a  tumult  of  hesitation.  The  soft  invisible 
hand  of  a  girl  was  holding  his  hand.  He  gazed 
steadily  at  the  documents  and  saw  nothing  that 
was  within.  The  ink  hnes  slowly  resolved  them- 
selves into  the  raven  glossy  hair  of  Stella  piled 
in  curling  confusion  above  her  white  forehead,  and 
he  was  trying  in  vain  to  find  the  depths  of  her 
wonderful   eyes. 

Something  in  the  expression  of  those  eyes 
held    his    memory  in    a    perpetual    spell  —  their 

6i 


62  THE  TRAITOR 

remarkable  size  and  their  dilation  when  she 
spoke.  They  seemed  to  enfold  him  in  a  soft 
mantle  of  light. 

He  suddenly  bundled  the  papers,  replaced  them, 
and  took  up  his  pen. 

"I've  got  to  see  her — that's  all!"  he  exclaimed. 
"Who  knows  .?  Perhaps  I'm  answering  the  great 
summons  of  life.  I'll  put  it  to  the  test.  At 
least  I'll  not  throw  my  chance  away  for  a  house, 
some  trees  and  a  few  acres  of  dirt.  When  Love 
calls  life's  too  short  for  revenge. " 

On  a  sheet  of  delicate  old  note  paper  with  a 
crest  of  yellow  and  black  at  the  top,  he  wrote: 

My  Dear  Miss  Butler: 

You  were  gracious  enough  to  ask  me  to  call  again. 
I  cannot  believe  your  words  were  mere  conventional  phrases. 
Their  accent  was  too  genuine  and  sincere.  So  I  beg  the 
privilege  of  calling  to-day  while  your  father,  my  valiant 
political  enemy,  is  busy  down  town  with  the  delegates  to 
his  convention  which  meets  to-morrow.  I  anxiously  await 
your  answer. 

Sincerely, 

John  Graham. 

"Unless  I've  mistaken  her  character,  she'll 
see  me!"  he  mused  as  he  sealed  the  note. 

He  went  at  once  to  Mrs.  Wilson's,  found 
Alfred,  and  gave  him  the  missive. 

"Take  that  to  the  Judge's  and  give  it  to  Miss 
Stella. " 


GRAHAM  VS.  BUTLER  63 

Alfred  stared. 

"Down  to  de  ole  place!" 

"Yes,  of  course." 

Alfred  sat  down  and  laughed. 

"Well,  fore  de  Lawd,  doan  dat  beat  ye!" 

"Shut  up,  and  hurry  back — I'll  wait  for  you  at 
the  office." 

"Yassah,  right  away,  sah!" 

"  And  Alfred,  not  a  word  to  a  living  soul  of  this. " 

"No,  sah,  cose  not  Marse  John — I  know  how 
tis  'my  sef — de  course  er  true  love  ain't  run 
smooth  wid  me  nuther." 

"Quick,  now,  don't  you  lose  a  minute." 

John  returned  to  his  office  to  await  with 
impatience  the  word  that  woiild  mean  the  begin- 
ning of  a  new  chapter  in  his  life. 

Alfred  placed  the  note  carefully  under  his  hat 
and  hastened  to  the  Judge's,  laughing  and 
chuckling  to  himself. 

For  reasons  best  known  to  himself  he  entered 
by   the  carriage  way. 

At  the  wide  double  gate  still  stood  the  old  lodge- 
keeper's  cottage,  a  relic  of  the  slave  regime.  In  the 
cottage  Aunt  Julie  Ann  lived  with  Uncle  Isaac, 
her  latest  husband.  Alfred  had  once  been  hon- 
oured with  that  relationship  before  the  war,  but 
Isaac  had  whipped  him  and  taken  Aunt  Julie 
Ann  by  force  of  arms. 


64  THE  TRAITOR 

Alfred  was  much  the  larger  man  of  the  two,  tall, 
awkward  and  slow  of  movement,  while  Isaac 
was  small  and  active  as  a  cat.  The  agility  of  his 
movements  had  swept  Aunt  Julie  Ann's  imagina- 
tion by  storm.  The  contrast  to  her  own  three 
hundred  pounds  had  no  doubt  been  the  secret 
charm. 

She  had  loudly  professed  her  love  for  Alfred 
until  she  saw  Isaac  thrash  him,  and  without  a  word 
she  surrendered  to  the  new  lord  and  refused  to 
recognise  her  former  husband. 

This  happened  two  years  before  the  war  and 
Alfred  had  watched  and  waited  the  day  of  his 
revenge  to  dawn.  Many  a  night  he  had  prowled 
around  her  cottage  spying  and  listening  at  the 
keyhole  for  her  cry  of  help.  He  had  heard  at  last 
that  Isaac  was  beating  her  unmercifully  and  he 
chuckled  with  grim  satisfaction.  Every  oppor- 
tunity he  got  he  hung  around  the  cottage  and  lis- 
tened for  the  long  expected  cry.  As  he 
approached  the  gates  this  morning  in  a  peculiarly 
romantic  frame  of  mind,  remembering  the  mis- 
sion he  was  on,  he  heard  Uncle  Isaac's  voice  in 
sharp  accents  within,  hectoring  it  over  his  former 
spouse. 

He  crept  to  the  door  and  listened  breathlessly. 

"Dar  now,  I'se  jes'  in  time  ter  sabe  my  lady 
love!" 


GRAHAM  VS.  BUTLER  65 

He  peeped  cautiously  through  the  keyhole 
and  saw  Aunt  JuHe  Ann's  huge  form  busy  at  the 
ironing  board,  while  Isaac  sat  majestically  in  a 
rocker  delivering  to  her  an  eloquent  discourse 
on  Sanctification  in  general  and  his  own  sinless 
perfection  in  particular.  Isaac  had  changed  his 
name  several  times  after  the  war,  following  the 
example  of  many  Negroes  who  were  afraid  the 
use  of  their  old  master's  name  might  some 
day  serve  as  the  badge  of  slavery.  He  had  lately 
become  a  Northern  Methodist  exhorter  of  great 
fame  and  went  from  church  to  church  holding 
revivals,  particularly  among  the  sisters  of  the 
church,  calling  them  to  the  life  of  stainless  purity 
of  those  who  had  not  merely  "salvation,"  as  the 
ordinary  Methodist  or  Baptist  understood  it,  but 
"sanctification"  as  only  those  of  the  inner  circle 
of  the  Lord  knew  it. 

Isaac  had  long  ago  been  "sanctified,"  and  had 
declared  not  only  his  sinless  nature  but  had  boldy 
proclaimed  himself  a  prophet  of  the  new  dispensa- 
tion and  had  finally  fixed  his  name  as  "Isaac  the 
Apostle,"  which  had  been  simplified  by  busy 
clerks  in  written  form  to  Isaac  A.  Postle. 

Aunt  Julie  Ann  had  heard  of  his  wonderful 
success  in  his  sanctification  meetings  with  mis- 
givings, as  the  large  majority  of  his  converts  were 
invariably    among   the    sisters.     She    had    finally 


66  THE  TRAITOR 

dared  to  question  the  authenticity  of  his  apostoHc 
call.  Her  scepticism  had  aroused  Isaac  to  a 
frenzy  of  religious  enthusiasm.  That  the  wife 
of  his  bosom  should  be  the  only  voice  to  question 
his  divine  mission  w^as  proof  positive  that  she  had 
in  some  mysterious  way  become  possessed  of  the 
devil — perhaps  seven  devils. 

He  determined  to  cast  them  out — by  moral 
suasion  if  possible — if  not,  by  the  main  strength 
of  his  good  right  arm.  He  must  set  his  own 
house  in  order  lest  the  very  source  of  his  inspiration 
be  poisoned  by  lack  of  faith.  He  was  devoting 
this  morning  to  the  task  when  Alfred  arrived. 

He  had  just  finished  a  long  and  fervid  explana- 
tion of  the  mystery  of  Sanctification. 

"Fur  de  las'  time  I  axes  ye,  'oman,  what  sez 
ye  ter  de  word  er  de  Lawd  ,?" 

Aunt  Julie  Ann  banged  the  board  with  the  iron 
and  merely  grunted: 

"Huh!" 

Isaac  rose  and  repeated  his  question  with  rising 
wrath : 

"What  sez  ye  ter  de  word  er  de  Lawd  V 

"I  ain'  beared  de  Lawd  say  nuttin  yit!" 

"An' why  ain't  ye?" 

"Case  you  keep  so  much  fuss  I  can't  hear 
nuttin',  Isaac  Graham!" 

"Doan  you  call  me  dat  name,  you  brazen  sinner 


GRAHAM  VS.  BUTLER  67 

dat  sets  in  de  seat  er  de  scornful!     Is  ye  ready 
ter  repent  an'  sin  no  mo?" 

Isaac  approached  her  threateningly  and  Alfred, 
watching  with  bulging  eyes,  clutched  the  stick 
he   had   picked   up. 

"Tech  me  if  ye  dare — I  bus'  yo  head  open  wid 
dis  flat-iron!" 

Isaac  knew  his  duty  now  and  determined 
to  perform  it  without  further  ceremony.  The 
anointed  of  the  Lord  had  been  threatened  by  the 
ungodly.  He  drew  a  seasoned  hickory  withe 
from  a  crack  where  he  had  hidden  it  and 
approached  his  sceptical  spouse. 

Aunt  Julie  Ann  began  to  whimper. 

"Put  down  dat  flat-iron!"  he  sternly  com- 
manded. 

Alfred  peering  through  the  keyhole  gasped  in 
amazement  as  he  saw  her  drop  the  iron  heavily 
on  the  floor. 

Isaac  raised  his  switch  and  began  to  whip  her. 
Around  and  around  she  flew  screaming,  begging, 
pleading  for  mercy.  But  Isaac  continued  to  lay 
on  steadily. 

Alfred  tried  to  rise  and  rush  to  the  rescue  but 
somehow  he  couldn't  move.  To  his  own  surprise 
the  performance  fascinated  him.  He  sat  peering 
with  satisfaction. 

"Dat's  paying  her  back  now  fur  leavin'  me  fer 


68  THE  TRAITOR 

dat  low  live  rascal.  Give  it  to  her,  old  man! 
Give  it  to  her!     She  sho'  deserves  it!" 

At  length  Isaac  paused,  and  eyed  her  steadily 
while  he  shook  his  switch  with  unction. 

"  I  axes  ye  now,  does  ye  believe  in  de  Sanctifica- 
tion  er  de  Saints  ? " 

"Yes,  Lawd,  I  sees  it  now!"  she  cried  with 
fervour. 

"An*  thanks  me  fer  showin'  ye  de  error  er  yo' 
way : 

"Yes,  honey!  I'm  gwine  ter  seek  dat  Sanctifica- 
tion  myself!" 

"Glory!     We'se  er  comin'  on!" 

Aunt  Julie  Ann  picked  up  the  flat-iron.  Isaac 
eyed  her  with  suspicion  but  he  was  too  much 
elated  with  his  victory  to  notice  anything  unusual 
in  her  manner. 

"Ye  b'lieves  now  in  de  Sanctification  er  de 
Lawd's  messenger  Isaac  A.   Postle?'* 

With  a  sudden  flash  of  her  eye  Aunt  Julie  Ann 
hurled  the  flat-iron  straight  at  the  head  of  the 
Lord's  messenger  saying: 

"No,  I  ain't  sed  dat  yit!" 

But  Isaac  was  quick.  He  dodged  in  time. 
The  corner  of  the  flat-iron  merely  tipped  his  ear 
and   smashed  through  the  window. 

He  grabbed  his  ear  with  sudden  pain  and 
gripped  his  switch  with  renewed  zeal. 


GRAHAM  VS.  BUTLER  69 

"I  see  I'se  des  begun — one  debble  out,  but 
dey's  six  mo'  ter  come!" 

Again  he  whipped  her  around  the  room,  threw 
her  down,  held  her  hair  and  banged  her  head 
against  the  floor. 

"Fur  de  las'  time  I  axes  ye,  is  de  Lawd's 
messenger,  Isaac  A.  Postle,  a  sanctified  one?" 

Bang!  Bang!  Bang!  went  her  head  against 
the  planks. 

"Yes  honey,  I  sees  it  now!"  she  cried  with 
enthusiasm. 

"Dat's  de  way!'* 

"  Does  ye  lub  me  fur  showin'  ye  de  light  ?" 

Bang!     Bang!     went  her  head. 

"Yes,  Lawd,  I  lub  ye." 

"Say  it  strong." 

Bang!     Bang!  went  her  head. 

"I  lubs  ye,  my  honey,  yes  I  do!"  shouted 
Aunt  Julie  Ann. 

"An'  I'se  de  only  man  dat  ye  ebber  lub  ?" 

A  moment's  pause,  and  again  bang!  bang!  went 
her  head. 

Alfred  couldn't  wait  for  the  answer;  he  gripped 
his  stick,  sprang  through  the  door,  knocked  the 
Apostle  flat  on  his  back,  and  jumped  on  him. 

Aunt    Julie    Ann    was    more    astonished    than 
Isaac  at  her  sudden  deliverance. 
She  scrambled  to  her  feet  and  gazed  for  a  moment 


70  THE  TRAITOR 

In  amazement  at  Alfred  as  he  pummelled  Isaac's 
head  against  the  floor  with  one  hand  and  pounded 
him  with  the  other. 

At  every  thump  of  his  head  Isaac  yelled: 

"Godsabeme!  de  debble  done  got  me!  Help, 
Lawd,  help!      Save  me  Lawd — save  me  now!" 

Alfred  pounded  steadily  away. 

Aunt  Julie  Ann,  when  she  caught  her  breath, 
grasped  Alfred's  arm  and  yelled: 

"What  yer  doin'  here,  nigger!" 

He  wrenched  his  arm  loose  from  her  grasp  and 
hit  Isaac  a  smashing  blow  in  the  mouth  as  he  cried 
again  for  help. 

"Git  ofFen  my  ole  man.  I  tell  ye!"  screamed 
Aunt  Julie  Ann,  gripping  Alfred  by  the  throat. 

"Name  er  God,  'oman,  what  yer  doin'  when 
I  comes  here  ter  save  ye!"  cried  Alfred,  wrenching 
himself  from  her  grip  and  returning  to  his  work 
on  Isaac. 

"Git  ofFen  'im,  I  tell  ye,  fo'  I  bus'  yer  open!" 
she  panted,  towering  above  the  writhing  pair. 
She  began  to  pound  Alfred  over  the  head  with  her 
fists,  but  he  worked  steadily  away  on  Isaac  with- 
out noticing  the  interruptions. 

Suddenly  Aunt  Julie  Ann  threw  both  arms 
around  his  neck,  bent  his  lank  figure  double 
across  Isaac's  prostrate  form,  and  hurled  her  three 
hundred  pounds  squarely  across  the  two  writhing 


GRAHAM  VS.  BUTLER  71 

men.     There  was  dead  silence  for  a  moment  and 
then  Isaac  groaned: 

"God  save  me  now!  we'se  bof  gone!  De 
house  done  fall  on  us!" 

"Na!  honey,  it's  me!"  cried  Aunt  Julie  Ann, 
"an'  I  got  'im  in  de  gills!" 

She  rolled  over  and  pulled  Alfred  with  her — 
both  hands  gripped  to  his  throat. 

In  a  moment  Isaac  was  on  his  feet. 

"De  Lawd  hear  my  cry!"  he  exclaimed  with 
unction,  pouncing  on  Alfred  and  pounding  him 
unmercifully  while  his  faithful  spouse  held  him 
fast.  Alfred  found  his  voice  at  last,  and  began  to 
yell  murder. 

Steve  Hoyle,  who  was  pacing  the  walk  in  front 
of  the  Judge's  anxiously  waiting  an  answer  to  a 
pleading  letter  he  had  sent  to  Stella  asking  for  an 
interview,  heard  the  cries  and  rushed  to  Alfred's 
rescue. 

He  pulled  Isaac  and  Aunt  Julie  Ann  off  in  time 
to  save  his  hat  and  portions  of  his  clothes. 

As  he  entered  the  cottage,  he  had  seen 
instantly  the  note  in  John  Graham's  handwrit- 
ing which  Alfred  had  dropped  on  the  floor. 
He  picked  it  up  hastily  and  put  it  in  his 
pocket. 

When  Alfred  got  out  the  door,  he  did  not 
stand  on  the  order  of  his  going.     He  struck  a  bee 


72  THE  TRAITOR 

line  for  John  Graham's  office  and  ran  every  step 
of  the  way  without  looking  back. 

John  was  pacing  the  floor,  his  heart  beating 
out  the  interminable  minutes. 

Alfred  burst  into  the  room,  his  nose  bleeding, 
a  gash  across  his  forehead,  his  clothes  torn  and 
spotted  with  the  blood  from  his  nose.  He  was 
still  wild  with  the  fear  of  death  which  had  clutched 
his  soul  as  the  light  of  day  faded  under  Aunt 
Julie  Ann's  awful  grip  on  his  throat. 

He  dropped,  panting  and  speechless,  on  the  floor. 

"For  God's  sake,  Alfred,  what's  happened!" 
John  cried,  seizing  a  glass  of  water  and  pressing 
it  to  his  lips. 

"Dey  kill  me,  Marse  John!" 

"Who   did   it?— what  for.?" 

"  De  folks  at  de  Judge's." 

"Where's  my  note.?" 

"Dunno  sah!" 

"Didn't  you   deliver  it.?" 

"Dunno    sah!" 

"  Did  you  go  to  the  house .? " 

"Dunno    sah!" 

"Where  did  this  happen.?" 

"At  de  gate,  sah,  dey  wuz  layin'  fer  me — De 
Judge  mus'  er  tole  'em  ter  kill  me.  " 

"Who  did  it.?" 

"Ole  Isaac  and  Julie  Ann  jump  on  me  fust, 


GRAHAM  VS.  BUTLER  73 

but  tovv'd  de  last  dey  wuz  er  dozen.  Six  un  'em 
wuz  er  beatin'  me  on  de  head  at  de  same  time, 
three  er  four  wuz  er  settin'  on  top  er  me,  two  had 
me  by  the  throat  an'  de  res'  un  'em  wuz  er  steady 
kickin'  me  in  de  stummick.  Dey'd  er  had  me  sho' 
by  dis  time  ef  I  hadn't  kotch  my  breaf  an'  holler'd." 

"And  who  helped  you  ?" 

"Mr.  Steve  Hoyle  wuz  dar  ter  see  Miss  Stella 
an'  he  run  in  an'  pulled  'em  off."  When  I  ht 
out  for  home  I  wuz  er  sight  sho  nufF.  I  hear  Miss 
Stella  come  up  ter  Mr.  Steve  an'  bust  out  laffin' 
fit  ter  kill  herself." 

*'  And  you  don't  know  what  became  of  the  note  ?" 

"Yassah!  cose  sah!  dey  tuck  hit  away  fum  me 
and  tore  it  up — dat's  what  I  fit  'em  'bout — yassah !' ' 

John's  face  was  white  with  rage.  He  sent 
Alfred  home,  sat  down  at  his  desk,  and  drew  out 
the  papers  he  had  laid  aside.  The  Judge  had 
won.  He  had  covered  him  with  infamy  in  the 
eyes  of  his  beautiful  daughter  and  had  dared  to 
perpetrate  this  infamous  outrage.  He  couldn't 
understand  Aunt  Julie  Ann's  part  in  the  row,  but 
the  evidence  of  Alfred's  plight  could  not  be 
mistaken. 

For  three  hours  with  stern  set  face  he  worked 
completing  the  case  of  Graham  vs.  Butler.  At 
four  o'clock  he  had  entered  the  suit  and  an  officer 
served  the  papers  on  the  astonished  Judge. 


CHAPTER  VI 

SCALAWAG   AND    CARPETBAGGER 

JOHN  GRAHAM,  as  leader  of  the  opposition, 
as  well  as  for  personal  reasons,  was  early 
on  the  grounds  with  half  a  dozen  trusted  lieuten- 
ants to  watch  the  action  of  the  Republican  County 
Convention.  He  was  curious  to  observe  the 
effects  of  his  suit  on  the  Judge  and  his  followers. 
He  soon  discovered  that  the  scathing  recital  of 
fraud  which  he  had  incorporated  into  the  form  of 
his  complaint  as  published  in  the  morning's  paper 
was  a  mistake.  It  had  been  accepted  by  the 
mottled  crew  of  nondescript  politicians  and  Negroes 
as  proof  positive  of  his  own  depravity  and  the 
Judge's  spotless  purity. 

The  Convention  was  seated  in  the  open  air  on 
improvised  boards.  The  Judge  was  peculiarly 
sensitive  to  the  atmosphere  of  a  crowd  of  Negroes. 
He  had  to  associate  with  them  to  get  their  votes, 
but  like  all  poor  white  men  of  Southern  birth,  he 
hated    them    without    measure. 

This  Convention  of  his  home  county  was  the 
most  important  crisis  in  the  development  of  his 
ambitions  as  the  leader  of  his  party  in  the  South. 

74 


SCALAWAG  AND  CARPETBAGGER    75 

He  was  a  candidate  for  the  United  States  Senate. 
Delegates  were  to  be  elected  to-day  to  the  state 
convention.  Unless  he  could  go  with  a  united 
front  from  his  home  county  he  was  doomed. 

His  opponent,  Alexander  Larkin,  was  the 
boldest,  most  unscrupulous,  and  powerful  Carpet- 
bag adventurer  who  had  ever  entered  the  South 
from  the  slums  of  the  North. 

Larkin  had  made  himself  the  Chairman  of  the 
Republican  State  Executive  Committee,  and  was 
running  neck  and  neck  with  the  Judge  for  the 
Senate.  He  had  determined  to  break  his  oppo- 
nent's backbone  by  capturing  the  whole,  or  at 
least  a  part  of  the  delegates  from  Butler's  home 
county.  The  audacity  of  this  movement  had 
fairly  taken  the  Judge's  breath.  He  halted  Suggs 
in  his  thriUing  pursuit  of  Ku  Klux  evidence  and 
sent  him  North  on  an  important  mission.  He 
meant  to  be  fully  prepared  for  any  trick  Larkin 
might  spring.  Suggs  was  bustling  about  among 
the  delegates  conscious  that  he  was  the  trusted 
lieutenant  of  the  coming  man. 

The  Carpetbagger  had  so  timed  his  anony- 
mous letter  to  John  Graham  that  the  shadow  of 
disgrace  thus  thrown  over  Butler's  name  would 
give  him  the  balance  of  power.  He  could  not 
foresee  the  chain  of  trivial  events  which  would 
produce  the  terrific  document  John  Graham  had 


76  THE  TRAITOR 

filed.  Every  word  of  its  passionate  arraignment 
had  the  sting  of  a  scorpion,  and  its  effects  had  been 
electrical.  By  instinct  the  crowd  had  accepted 
John's  suit  as  a  blow  at  the  cause  and  Butler  had 
become  their  champion. 

As  the  Judge  approached  the  crowd  accom- 
panied by  Stella  and  Steve  Hoyle,  John  saw  with 
sinking  heart  that  the  first  effect  of  his  suit  had 
been  to  bring  Steve  and  Stella  closer  together 
and  to  dig  an  impassable  gulf  between  him  and 
the  girl  he  had  begun  unconsciously  to  worship. 
She  had  evidently  laid  aside  her  hatred  of  politics 
and  become  her  father's  champion.  And  he  knew 
that  Steve  Hoyle  had  lost  no  time  in  this  crisis  in 
poisoning  her  mind  forever  against  him.  In  fact 
Steve  had  spent  the  morning  by  her  side  develop- 
ing the  bitter  sentences  in  his  complaint  into  revela- 
tions of  hereditary  insanity  and  envenomed  malice. 

The  girl  had,  however,  taken  his  statements 
with  reservations.  She  would  stand  by  her  father 
before  the  world  and  she  would  publicly  insult 
John  Graham  if  he  ever  dared  give  her  the  oppor- 
tunity, but  deep  down  in  her  heart  she  half  sus- 
pected the  truth.  The  memory  of  the  bitter  feud 
between  her  mother  and  father  over  some  secret 
connected  with  this  estate  and  her  father's  shuf- 
fling evasions,  returned  to  her  now  with  startling 
import. 


SCALAWAG  AND  CARPETBAGGER    77 

Her  mother  was  of  the  old  regime  of  the  South, 
an  aristocrat  of  aristocrats  to  her  finger  tips.  Her 
people  had  blotted  her  very  name  from  their 
memory  for  her  marriage  to  Butler.  She  had 
fiercely  resented  to  the  day  of  her  death  this 
ostracism.  The  fear  that  her  husband  was  a 
scoundrel,  which  slowly  grew  into  a  certainty  in 
later  years,  at  last  broke  her  proud  spirit.  She 
gave  up  the  struggle  and  died. 

There  were  moments  in  which  Stella  felt  this 
inherited  repugnance  to  her  father  when  the  proud 
spirit  of  her  mother's  blood  ruled  in  her  soul. 
There  were  other  moments  when  she  felt  the 
necessity  of  tricks  and  lies  to  make  life  agreeable 
and  accepted  her  father  as  of  the  inevitable  order 
of  human  existence. 

This  morning  she  was  her  father's  daughter. 
Whether  he  was  guilty  or  innocent  she  would 
show  John  Graham  and  his  proud  Bourbon  set 
her  contempt  for  them  and  their  opinions. 

As  the  three  reached  the  edge  of  the  crowd  she 
was  smiling  graciously  on  Steve  in  answer  to  a 
sally  of  his  cheap  wit.  She  fixed  John  with  a 
look  of  contempt  and  his  soul  grew  sick  with  the 
consciousness  that  he  had  paid  too  great  a  price  for 
his  suit  against  the  Judge.  In  her  anger  she  was 
superb.  The  very  air  about  her  seemed  charged 
with  the  intensity  of  her  personality.     She  radiated 


78  THE  TRAITOR 

f 
it  in  every  direction.  It  was  the  consciousness 
of  this  intensity  of  nature  which  drew  John  to  her 
with  resistless  power.  No  other  type  of  woman 
could  interest  him,  and  Stella  was  endowed  with 
this  subtle  magnetism  as  no  human  being  he  had 
ever  met.  It  spoke  in  every  movement  of  her 
body,  in  every  accent  of  her  voice. 

As  she  passed  and  turned  her  back  on  him,  the 
sense  of  a  hopeless  and  irreparable  loss  crushed 
his  spirit.  The  words  of  the  preacher  rang  in 
his  soul,  "What  shall  it  profit  a  man  if  he  gain  the 
whole  world  and  forfeit  his  life.  " 

"What  are  houses  and  lands  after  all,  before  the 
elemental  forces  which  make  life  worth  while,"  he 
muttered.  "I've  an  almost  irresistible  impulse 
to  knock  Steve  Hoyle  down,  seize  her  in  my  arms, 
smother  her  with  kisses  and  carry  her  off  to  some 
cave  on  a  mountain!  To  the  devil  with  goods  and 
chattels,  houses  and  lands." 

With  a  start  he  came  down  from  the  clouds  of 
fancy.  She  had  dismissed  Steve,  taken  the  Judge's 
arm,  and  was  actually  going  to  walk  down  the 
aisle  through  that  mob  of  Negroes  and  greasy 
politicians  and  accompany  him  to  the  platform. 

When  they  reached  the  centre  of  the  crowd, 
seated  in  semicircle  about  the  covered  speaker's 
stand,  pandemonium  broke  loose.  The  Judge 
received  the  most  remarkable  ovation  of  his  life. 


SCALAWAG  AND  CARPETBAGGER    79 

The  throng  leaped    to    their  feet  and   screamed 
themselves   horse. 

"Keep  your  house  Judge!"  yelled  a  henchman. 

"Houses  were  built  for  patriots,  and  jails  for 
traitors!" 

The  Judge  bowed  and  again  the  crowd  yelled. 

Larkin  from  the  platform  watched  the  demon- 
stration with  amazement. 

"I've  miscalculated.  They're  all  thieves  and 
scoundrels.     I've  made  him  a  hero." 

With  a  hypocritical  smile  he  seized  the  Judge's 
hand,  wrung  it  heartily,  congratulated  him,  and 
drew  him  to  the  platform.  Stella  sprang  lightly 
up  after  him,  took  a  rosebud  from  her  belt,  pinned 
it  on  her  father's  slouchy  ill-fitting  broadcloth  coat, 
kissed  him  and  amid  the  cheers  of  the  mob  re- 
traced her  steps  and  left  the  ground  with  Steve 
Hoyle. 

John  watched  her  lift  her  parasol  above  her 
dainty  head  with  smothered  curses  at  his  folly. 
He  had  unconsciously  taken  his  own  hat  oW  and 
stood  bareheaded  in  the  broiling  Southern  sun  of 
a  June  day.  The  bitterness  of  his  mistake  stirred 
him  to  more  dogged  persistence.  With  an  effort 
he  turned  to  the  Judge  and  the  Convention — 
trying  in  vain  to  shake  off  the  impression  Stella 
had  left.  But  he  found  his  mind  constantly 
wandering  from  the  scene.     Wherever  he  looked, 


8o  THE  TRAITOR 

within  or  without,  he  saw  the  dehcate  oval  face 
with  those  great  brown  eyes  smihng  as  they  did 
the  night  he  met  her  in  the  hall  of  his  old  home. 

At  length  he  awoke  from  his  reverie  with  his 
eye  resting  unconsciously  on  Larkin,  the  Judge's 
opponent.  He  had  never  seen  him  before,  though 
his  name  had  become  known  in  every  county 
of  the  state. 

He  was  a  man  of  more  than  the  average  height, 
of  powerful  build,  high  intellectual  forehead,  a 
full  beard,  long,  silken,  snow  white.  His  hair, 
also  long  and  white,  was  inclined  to  curl  at  the  ends, 
and  a  pair  of  piercing  black  eyes  looked  out  fear- 
lessly from  shaggy  brows.  He  carried  himself 
with  instinctive  dignity,  and  his  whole  appearance 
proclaimed  a  bold  and  powerful  leader  of  men. 

Rumour  said  that  he  had  been  a  Wesleyan 
preacher  in  England  but  had  been  expelled  in  some 
factional  fight  and  had  sought  his  fortunes  in 
America.  Darker  rumour  whispered  that  he  had 
a  criminal  record  and  that  he  had  never  even 
attained  citizenship  in  the  country  of  his  adoption. 
Such  rumours,  however,  counted  for  nothing  in  the 
tainted  atmosphere  of  the  riot  and  revolution  of 
the  Reconstruction  period.  From  the  sewers  of 
the  North,  jail  birds  and  ex-convicts  had  poured 
into  the  stricken  South  as  vultures  follow  the  wake 
of  a  victorious  army. 


SCALAWAG  AND  CARPETBAGGER    8i 

In  two  years  Larkin  had  proven  himself  a  party 
leader  of  remarkable  executive  ability  and  on  the 
hustings  had  shov^n  himself  an  orator  of 
undoubted  eloquence.  He  was  fast  becoming 
the  idol  of  the  more  daring  and  radical  wing  of 
his  party.  He  boldly  proclaimed  and  practiced 
Negro  equality  and  held  up  to  public  scorn  any 
man  who  dared  to  quibble  on  the  issue. 

So  bold  and  radical  were  his  utterances  the 
Negroes  were  a  little  afraid  of  him.  Yet  he  was 
steadily  gaining  in  his  influence  over  them.  He 
knew  that  they  constituted  nine-tenths  of  the 
voting  strength  of  the  Republican  party  in  the 
South,  and  that  ultimately  the  man  who  pandered 
most  skilfully  to  their  passions  must  become 
master  of  the  situation. 

He  had  laid  siege  to  Uncle  Isaac  immediately 
on  his  arrival  and  had  played  on  his  vanity  so 
deftly  that  the  Apostle  of  Sanctification  had  been 
completely  fascinated  by  the  Carpetbagger. 

The  moment  Larkin's  eye  rested  on  Isaac  seated 
in  the  crowd  he  saw  in  a  flash  the  master  stroke  by 
which  he  could  break  the  spell  of  the  Judge's 
influence  over  the  delegates.  He  quickly  threaded 
his  way  to  the  Apostle's  side  and  escorted  him  to 
the  speakers'  stand  with  his  arm  around  his  waist. 
He  lifted  him  to  the  platform,  forced  the  Judge 
to    rise    and    shake  hands,  and   seated  Isaac  by 


82  THE  TRAITOR 

Butler's  side.  The  Negroes  burst  into  a  frenzy  of 
applause. 

So  elated  was  Isaac  by  his  newly  found  honours 
he  began  to  interrupt  the  meeting  by  fervid  relig- 
ious exclamations  to  the  intense  disgust  of  the 
Judge  who  squirmed  with  increasing  anger  at  each 
new  outburst.  When  Isaac  recognised  any  of  his 
dusky  acquaintances  in  the  crowd  he  waved  his 
hand  and  pointed  his  remarks  in  that  direction. 

"Yas  Lawd!  De  year  er  juberlee  is  come,  an' 
I'se  right  here!" 

A  loud  guffaw  would  invariably  answer  his  sally. 

Larkin  ostentatiously  consulted  Isaac  from 
time  to  time  as  to  the  conduct  of  the  convention 
and  every  Negro  watched  him  spellbound. 

The  Judge's  henchmen  were  dismayed  at  the 
impending  stampede  by  the  Carpetbagger.  But- 
ler had  assured  them  the  night  before  that  they  had 
nothing  to  fear  from  Larkin.  But  it  was  only  too 
apparent  that  he  had  underestimated  his  opponent. 
Larkin's  commanding  appearance,  his  magnetism 
and  eloquence,  the  boldness  and  evident  sincerity 
of  his  profession  of  Negro  equality  were  steadily 
winning  adherents. 

Personally  the  Judge  cut  a  poor  figure  beside 
him  with  his  slouchy  ill-fitting  clothes,  his  fawning 
shuffling  walk,  his  drooping  head,  shifting  eyes, 
and  his  vague  professions  of  platitudes. 


SCALAWAG  AND  CARPETBAGGER    83 

Butler  watched  Larkin's  sudden  growth  of 
power  with  sullen  rage.  He  had  in  reserve  a 
weapon  which  he  had  found  in  the  Carpetbagger's 
Enghsh  career,  with  which  he  could  crush  him  at  a 
single  blow,  but  he  had  not  expected  to  be  forced 
to  the  extreme  necessity  of  using  it.  For  many 
reasons  he  wished  to  beat  Larkin  in  an  open 
fight.  The  weapon  he  could  use  was  a  dangerous 
one.  He  knew  that  Larkin  had  learned  the  facts 
concerning  his  confiscation  of  the  Graham  estate, 
and  he  was  not  sure  how  far  his  resentment  would 
go  in  retahation  for  an  attack  on  his  personal 
character.  But  he  determined  to  put  a  stop  to 
Isaac's  insolence  which  was  rapidly  becoming 
unendurable. 

The  Judge  leaned  over  toward  the  enthusiastic 
Apostle  and  with  a  frown  said : 

"Shut  your  mouth  and  behave  yourself!" 

Isaac  subsided  with  a  look  of  injured  innocence 
directed  in  mute  appeal  toward  Larkin. 

Again  the  Carpetbagger  saw  his  opportunity. 
He  approached  Isaac,  seized  his  hand,  slipped  his 
arm   around   his  shoulder  and  whispered: 

"  Brother,  I'm  going  to  make  a  motion  to  amend 
the  Judge's  list  of  delegates  by  substituting  six 
men  of  colour  for  six  of  the  poor  white  men  he  has 
chosen.  I'll  put  your  name  first.  Will  you  make 
a  speech  in  favour  of  my  motion  ?" 


84  THE  TRAITOR 

"Dat  I  will!'* 

*'Then  repeat  that  story  of  the  vision  you  told 
me  last  night,  and  apply  it  to  the  Judge — will 
you   do   it?" 

"Make  de movement,  an'  I  sho'  ye!"  whispered 
Isaac. 

Larkin's  bold  motion,  a  direct  appeal  to  the 
Negro  to  use  his  power  against  the  white  man, 
took  the  Judge's  breath.  He  stared  at  his  oppo- 
nent in  blank  amazement  while  Larkin  smiled  at 
him  with  good-natured  contempt. 

"And  I  have  asked,"  continued  the  Carpet- 
bagger, "a  distinguished  leader  of  his  race,  Mr. 
Isaac  A.  Postle,  a  constituent  and  neighbour  of 
Judge  Butler,  to  address  the  Convention  before 
the  motion  is  opened  to  general  debate.  I  am 
sure  the  Convention  will  give  its  unanimous  con- 
sent to  hear  him." 

The  roar  of  applause  which  greeted  this  remark 
left  no  doubt  as  to  their  consent.  Larkin  seized 
Isaac  and  drew  him  before  the  speaker's  table 
with  his  arm  again  affectionately  around  him. 

Isaac  was  in  a  broad  grin  and  evidently  enjoyed 
his  honours.  He  cleared  his  throat  and  glanced  at 
the  Judge.  The  Negroes  burst  into  roars  of  laughter 
and  the  Apostle  lifted  his  hand  solemnly  for  silence. 

Butler  scowled  and  shuffled  uneasily  while 
Larkin's  face  was  wreathed  in  smiles. 


SCALAWAG  AND  CARPETBAGGER   85 

"Gemmens  an'  feller  citizens!"  Isaac  began 
with  great  deliberation.  *' I'se  called  by  de 
Lawd  dis  mawnin'  ter  come  up  on  high  and  expose 
de  vision  dat  I  seed  in  de  dead  er  de  night  las' 
week.  I  drempt  a  dream.  I  dream  dat  I  die  and 
go  ter  heaben.  An'  as  I  wuz  gwine  long  up  de 
hill  ter  de  pearly  gates  who  should  I  meet  comin' 
down  de  hill  but  our  good  frien'  Judge  Butler " 

The  Judge  gave  a  sharp  little  angry  cough, 
pulled  his  long  black  whiskers  and  crossed  his 
legs  quickly.  Isaac  glanced  at  him  and  walled 
his  eyes  at  the  dusky  crowd  who  broke  into  another 
roar  of  laughter. 

"Yassah!"  he  went  on,  "I  met  Judge  Butler 
comin'  down  de  hill  lookin'  pow'ful  sad.  An'  he 
say  ter  me: 

'"Isaac,  whar  ye  gwine?' 

"  *Gwine  ter  heben,'  sezzi. 

"'Ye  can't  git  in!'  sezze. 

"  'Why  so  ?'  sezzi. 

"'Case  ye  got  ter  be  er  ridin','  sezze — 'I  jes 
come  down  frum  dar — an'  hits  des  lak  I  tell  ye!* 

"  'Is  dat  so  ?'  sezzi. 

"  'But  I  tell  ye  what  we  kin  do,  Isaac!'  sezze. 

"  'I'll  git  on  yo  back  an'  ride  up  to  de  gate,  an' 
we  bof  git  in." 

"  Dat  seem  all  right  ter  me  fust  off  so  I  hump 
mysef  an'  de  Jedge  git  on  my  back,  an'  I  gallup 


86  THE  TRAITOR 

up  de  hill  ter  de  pearly  gates,  an'  de  angel  Gabul, 
he  look  over  de  fence  an'  say: 

"*  Who's  dar?' 

" '  Hit's  me,  Jedge  Butler,'  sezze. 

"  '  Ridin'  er  walkin'  ?'  de  angel  say. 

"  *Er  ridin'!'  sezze. 

An'  I  chuckled  ter  myse'f  dat  I'se  er  settin  my 
feet  in  de  gates  er  glory! 

An'  den  de  angel  say: 

*'  'Des  hitch  yer  hoss  outside  an' come  in!* 

"An'  bress  God!  ef  de  Jedge  didn't  hitch  meter 
de  pos'  on  de  outside  an'  go  in  an'  leave 
me  dar!" 

Again  th  crowd  screamed  with  laughter. 
Wave  after  wave  swept  them  while  Isaac  folded 
his  hands  across  his  Httle  protruding  stomach 
and  laughed  with  them.  In  vain  the  chairman 
rapped  for  order. 

The  Judge  flushed  red  with  anger  and  called 
Suggs  to  his  side.  Larkin  bent  low  his  face 
between  his  hands,  convulsed  with  laughter. 

When  at  length  the  tumult  wore  itself  out  Isaac's 
voice  rang  over  the  assembly  in  sharp  vibrant 
triumphant  tones: 

"An'  I  moves  yer,  sah,  dat  we  all  unanimously 
second  de  motion  er  Brer  Larkin!" 

Amid  a  shout  of  approval  he  sat  down. 

The    Carpetbagger,    elated     by    his    success, 


SCALAWAG  AND  CARPETBAGGER      87 

determined  to  make  a  bolder  stroke,  capture  the  en- 
tire delegation  and  put  the  Judge  out  of  the  race. 

He  leaped  to  his  feet  and  launched  at  once  into 
an  eloquent  appeal  for  the  equal  rights  of  man, 
meaning,  of  course,  the  right  of  the  Negro  race  to 
rule  the  white  man  of  the  South,  the  former  slave 
to  rule  his  master.  Bold  as  a  lion  by  instinct, 
he  did  not  quibble  over  words.  He  told  the  Negro 
that  his  hour  had  come  to  strike  for  his  right  by 
force  of  arms  if  need  be.  He  denounced  the  Ku 
Klux  Klan  in  the  bitterest  terms.  Every  Negro 
followed  his  scathing  words  with  breathless  atten- 
tion. For  the  moment  he  was  the  veritable  pro- 
phet of  the  Most  High  God.  Never  before  had 
they  heard  any  man  in  public  dare  thus  to  arraign 
this  dreaded  order  of  white  and  scarlet  horsemen. 
Here  was  their  champion  whose  valiant  soul  knew 
not  the  fear  of  man,  ghost,  clansman  or  devil. 
He  was  transfigured  before  their  yes  into  the 
white-haired  prophet  of  the  Lord,  and  they  hung 
on  his  every  word  as  inspired. 

In  another  moment  he  would  have  made  his 
motion  for  a  solid  Negro  delegation  and  stampeded 
the  Convention  had  it  not  been  for  the  single  burst 
of  eloquence  with  which  he  closed  his  speech. 
Just  at  the  moment  when  he  held  every  heart  in 
the  dusky  host  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand,  he 
thundered: 


88  THE  TRAITOR 

"Against  the  white  traitor  of  the  South  who  has 
perpetrated  these  wrongs  on  yuar  defenseless 
heads  I  hurl  the  everlasting  curse  of  God!  Only 
a  race  of  dastards  and  cowards  would  thus  sneak 
under  the  cover  of  night  to  strike  their  foes!" 

He  had  scarcely  uttered  the  words  when  Billy 
Graham  rushed  from  the  outer  circle  of  the  crowd 
where  he  had  sauntered  with  Mrs.  Wilson,  sur- 
rounded by  a  dozen  fun-making  youngsters,  and 
ran  toward  the  platform. 

"Wait  a  minute!"  he  said,  with  uplifted  hand, 
his  voice  quivering  with  rage. 

Larkin's  arm  dropped;  he  halted  in  amaze- 
ment, every  eye  fixed  on  Billy.  John  Graham 
sprang  to  his  feet  with  a  muttered  oath  of  surprise 
in  time  to  see  Billy  square  himself  in  front  of  the 
speaker  and  say: 

"  If  you  think  the  Southern  people  a  race  of 
cowards  and  dastards  come  down  off  that  plat- 
form and  knock  this  chip  off  my  shoulder,  you  old 
white-livered   cur!" 

He  placed  a  chip  on  his  shoulder  and  strutted 
before  Larkin.  The  Carpetbagger  was  too  aston- 
ished to  reply.  He  gazed  at  the  boy  in  confusion 
and  muttered  an  inarticulate  protest. 

Billy  jumped  on  the  platform  and  walked  around 
him  like  a  game  bantam,  crying: 

*' Knock    it    off — d you!  knock    it    off!     If 


SCALAWAG  AND  CARPETBAGGER    89 

you  want  to  test  it!  A  dozen  of  my  friends  are 
out  there,  yours  all  around  you,  a  hundred  to  one, 
but  knock  it  off!  knock  it  off!" 

John  Graham  had  reached  the  platform  by 
this  time,  seized  Billy  and  led  him  back  through 
the  crowd  to  Mrs.  Wilson  who  was  in  hysterics, 
the  boys  vainly  trying  to  quiet  her. 

"What  the  devil's  the  matter  with  you — have 
you  gone  crazy  ?"  John  whispered,  shaking  Billy 
fiercely.     "Go  home  and  behave  yourself!" 

"Attend  to  your  own  business,  John  Graham; 
I'm  attending  to  mine!"  was  Billy's  sullen  answer. 
And  without  another  word  he  led  Mrs.  Wilson 
away  followed  by  his  companions,  while  John 
gazed  after  him  with  increasing  astonishment. 

In  the  confusion  which  followed  Billy's  sudden 
challenge  the  Judge  saw  his  chance.  He  sprang 
to  his  feet  and  moved  to  adjourn  for  dinner. 
Before  Larkin  could  recover  himself  the  motion 
was  carried  and  the  Convention  adjourned. 

Butler  turned  to  the  Carpetbagger  and  said: 

"  I  wish  to  see  you  in  my  hotel  immediately  on 
a  matter  of  the  gravest  importance." 

"I  haven't  time,  Judge,"  Larkin  carelessly 
answered. 

"I'm  in  no  mood  to  be  trifled  with,"  answered 
the  Judge. 

"It's  a  waste    of   time,   your  Honour — ^you're 


90  THE  TRAITOR 

a    back     number.      Why     should     I     talk    with 
you?" 

*' There's  one  reason  big  enough  to  interest 
you,"  the  Judge  answered  with  sinister  suggestion. 

Larkin  fixed  his  opponent  a  moment  with  his 
piercing  eyes  and  said  with  contempt: 

"I'll  join  you  in  a  moment." 

The  Judge  beckoned  to  Suggs  who  had  hovered 
near,  and  the  detective  handed  him  a  package  of 
documents  from  his  inside  pocket.  The  move- 
ment was  not  lost  on  Larkin  who  was  watching 
his  enemy  with  uneasiness. 

Suggs  accompanied  the  Judge  to  his  room  at  the 
hotel  and  awaited  his  call  outside  the  door.  Larkin 
looked  at  him  with  a  scowl  as  he  entered. 

The  Judge  adjusted  his  slouchy  coat,  shuffled 
his  feet,  and  stroked  his  beard  with  deliberation  as 
Larkin  seated  himself. 

"I'm  going  to  ask  you,  Larkin,"  he  began,  "to 
write  out  your  resignation  as  Chairman  of  our 
State  Executive  Committee  and  withdraw  from 
this  race." 

The  Carpetbagger  laughed  aloud. 

"Well,  you  are  an  ass,  you  fawning,  time- 
serving Scalawag — what  do  you  take  me  for.?" 

"For  the  criminal  adventurer  you  are!"  thun- 
dered the  Judge. 

I'll  not  bandy  words  with  you,  Butler.     I've 


i(  T'l 


SCALAWAG  AND  CARPETBAGGER   91 

got  you  now,  just  where  I  want  you.  Five 
minutes  more  of  that  Convention  and  you'll  be  a 
memory  as  a  pohtician.  You  never  had  a  prin- 
ciple in  your  life.  A  professed  leader  of  the 
Republican  party  in  the  South  composed  of 
Negroes,  you  loathe  the  very  sight  of  a  Negro. 
You  profess  to  be  a  Southerner,  yet  your  ear  is 
always  to  the  ground  to  hear  the  shghtest  whisper 
from  the  lowest  breed  of  Yankee  demagogues 
in  the  North.  You  lie  to  the  Negro,  you  lie  to 
the  Southern  white  man,  you  lie  to  the  Yankee. 
You're  a  pusillanimous,  office-seeking  turncoat 
beneath  the  contempt  of  a  man.  Why  did  you 
send  for  me  ?" 

"To  tell  you  that  it's  time  for  you  to  move  on, 
sir!"  cried  Butler  with  spluttering  rage.  "You 
Carpetbag  vultures  have  winged  your  way  into 
the  South  to  tear  from  the  loyal  men  of  native 
birth  the  rewards  of  their  long  patriotic  services. 
Go  back  to  the  slums  and  prison  pens  of  the  North 
where  you  belong!" 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  Larkin  broke  in  with 
sudden  energy. 

"That    you    are    a    criminal    adventurer,   sir; 
that's  what  I  mean!" 

Larkin  laughed  again. 

"Is  that  all?" 

"And  I  have  in  my  pocket  the  documents  to 


92  THE  TRAITOR 

prove  that  you   have   never  acquired   citizenship 
in  the  State  of  New  York!" 

"True,  but  irrelevant.  I  am  a  citizen  now  of 
this  state  under  the  Reconstruction  Acts,  and  I'm 
going  to  represent  the  old  commonwealth  in  the 
next  Senate  while  you  sink  once  more  into  the 
obscurity  your  feeble  intelligence  has  prepared 
for  you.     Is  this  all  you  have  to  say  ?" 

"No,  sir,  it's  not!"  whispered  the  Judge 
hoarsely  with  triumphant  malice.  "  I  have  a 
letter  in  my  pocket  from  the  warden  of  the  prison 
in  England  where  you  served  your  time,  enclosing 
your  photograph." 

With  a  sudden  cry  of  anguish  Larkin  leaped  the 
distance  separating  them,  gripped  Butler  by  the 
throat,  hurled  him  back  in  his  seat,  and  held  him 
strangling,  spluttering,  squirming  in  mortal  terror. 
In  a  moment  he  released  him,  sank  to  a  chair  and 
buried  his  face  in  his  hands. 

"So!  I  am  your  master  after  all,"  the  Judge 
sneered,  recovering  from  his  terror. 

Larkin  lifted  his  lion-like  head  a  moment  and 
looked  at  his  opponent. 

"Yes,  I  give  up.  I'll  withdraw  from  the  race 
if  you'll  keep  my  secret." 

"I'll  make  no  conditions  with  you  sir;  I  mean  to 
brand  you  a  felon  throughout  the  length  and 
breadth  of  this  land!" 


SCALAWAG  AND  CARPETBAGGER       93 

"Not  if  you've  an  ounce  of  manhood  in  you," 
said  the  Carpetbagger  with  quiet  dignity.  "You 
can't  do  it  when  I  tell  you  the  truth.  Fifteen 
years  ago  I  was  an  honoured  minister  of  the 
gospel  in  Australia.  An  enemy  of  mine  in  England 
published  against  me  an  infamous  slander.  I 
returned  to  ask  reparation.  He  not  only  refused 
to  give  it  but  insulted  me  by  a  dastardly  blow  in 
a  public  assembly.  In  a  moment  of  insane  rage 
I  returned  his  blow  with  one  which  resulted  in  his 
death.  Four  months  later  I  found  myself,  a  man 
of  culture,  refinement  and  the  highest  order  of 
social  talents,  a  convict  in  prison  garb  serving  a 
sentence  for  manslaughter.  I  emerged  more 
dead  than  alive — it  was  late  in  life,  but  I  lifted  up 
my  head,  sought  a  new  world  and  began  all  over 
again.  Once  more  I've  shown  my  power  as  a 
leader  of  men.  It  was  born  in  me — a  God-given 
birthright.  My  hair  is  white  now  with  the  frost  of 
the  grave;  I'm  alone  and  friendless.  Put  your- 
self in  my  place.  It's  my  last  chance.  You  are 
twenty  years  younger.  I  ask  your  pity,  your 
sympathy,  your  friendship.  Come,  Judge,  you 
too  are  a  soldier  of  fortune  in  conquered  territory 
and  have  your  own  secrets.     Fight  me  fair." 

"I'll  fight  you  with  every  weapon  in  my  power, 
fair  or  foul.  You're  in  my  way;  get  out  of  it," 
sneered  the  Judge. 


94  THE  TRAITOR 

"You  contemptible  cur!"  cried  Larkin.  "I 
could  strangle  you!" 

"No  doubt,"  sneered  Butler.     "If  you  dared!'' 

"Take  care,  you  cowardly  dog!"  leaped  the 
threat  from  the  lips  of  the  Carpetbagger,  with  a 
sudden  flash  of  incontrollable  rage;  and  again  his 
massive  figure  towered  over  the  Judge's  slouching 
form.  Butler's  shifting  eyes  blinked  in  terror  as 
he  spluttered: 

"I'll  keep  your  secret  on  one  condition!" 

"What  is  it.?"  snapped  Larkin. 

"You're  a  man  of  genius.  Use  your  talents 
for  me,  and  we'll  be  friends." 

"You  have  told  no  one  the  facts  you  have 
discovered  ?" 

"No.  Suggs  knows  only  of  the  investigation 
as   to   your   citizenship." 

"  I  accept  your  terms,"  was  the  quiet  answer. 

The  Convention  ended  in  unexpected  harmony, 
electing  a  solid  Butler  delegation.  Larkin  lingered 
in  town  for  several  days  and,  to  the  surprise  and 
uneasiness  of  the  Judge,  stopped  with  Uncle 
Isaac  in  the  little  cottage  by  his  gate. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE    REIGN   OF    FOLLY 

WITHIN  two  weeks  Steve  Hoyle's  new  Klan 
was  organised  and  in  absolute  control  of 
the  Piedmont  Congressional  District. 

John  Graham  saw  that  his  defeat  was  a  cer- 
tainty and  gave  up  the  political  fight  in  disgust. 
But  he  determined  to  prevent  at  all  hazards  the 
degradation  of  the  Klan  into  an  engine  of  personal 
vengeance  and  criminal  folly.  There  was  but  one 
way  to  do  it.  He  dreaded  the  undertaking,  yet 
there  was  no  help  for  it.  He  must  again  fight 
the  devil  with  fire.  The  reign  of  terror  in- 
augurated by  the  Black  Union  League  had 
made  necessary  the  Ku  Klux  Klan.  There  must 
be  a  power  to  hold  in  check  Steve's  irrespon- 
sible gang. 

He  immediately  organised  in  each  county  a 
vigilance  committee  composed  of  the  bravest  and 
most  reliable  members  of  the  old  Klan  who  had 
refused  to  follow  Steve.  Over  these  men  he 
sought  to  exercise  only  a  moral  influence  as  their 
former  Commander-in-chief,  save  in  his  own 
county  where  his  word  was  accepted  as  law  by 

95 


96  THE  TRAITOR 

the   surviving   veterans   of  the   regiment   he   had 
commanded  in  the  Civil  War. 

These  men  he  instructed  to  watch  the  move- 
ments of  Steve's  followers,  learn  in  advance  of 
their  intended  raids,  break  them  up  by  moral 
suasion  if  possible;  by  force  as  a  last  resort. 

He  had  found  the  task  a  tremendous  one.  For 
the  first  time  he  realised  the  terrible  meaning  of 
the  lawless  power  of  the  Klan.  The  secrecy 
of  their  movements  under  his  own  leadership  had 
been  perfect.  Yet  with  his  knowledge  of  their 
methods  he  had  believed  it  would  be  comparatively 
easy  to  defeat  their  plans.  He  found  it  next  to 
impossible.  In  spite  of  the  utmost  vigilance  on  the 
part  of  his  committees,  the  new  Klan  had  inaugura- 
ted a  reign  of  folly  and  terror  unprecedented  in  the 
history  of  the  whole  Reconstruction  saturnalia. 

They  whipped  scalawag  politicians  night  after 
night  and  drove  them  from  the  county.  They 
called  on  carpetbagger  postmasters  who  imme- 
diately left  for  parts  unknown.  They  whipped 
Negroes,  young  and  old,  for  all  sorts  of  wrong- 
doing, real  or  fancied,  and  finally  began  to  regulate 
the  general  morals  of  the  community.  They 
whipped  a  rowdy  for  abusing  his  wife  and  on  the 
same  night  tarred  and  feathered  a  white  girl  of 
low  origin  who  lived  in  the  outskirts  of  town  and 
ran  her  from  the  county. 


THE  REIGN  OF  FOLLY  97 

The  morning  after  this  outrage  occurred,  John 
Graham  walked  into  Steve's  law  office,  brushed  by 
his  clerks  and  boldly  entered  the  inner  room  where 
his  enemy  was  at  work. 

Steve  sprang  to  his  feet  and  his  hand  instinctively 
sought  the  revolver  in  his  hip  pocket. 

"You  needn't  be  alarmed;  I'm  not  ready  for 
you  yet,"  said  John,  his  eyes  holding  Steve's  with 
their  steady  light. 

"Well,  I'm  ready  for  you,"  was  the  quick 
retort.     "What    do    you    want?" 

"Merely  to  give  you  a  little  advice  this 
morning." 

"When  I  need  your  advice,  I'll  let  you  know." 

John  closed  the  door. 

"Your  men  are  covering  the  name  of  the  Ku 
Klux  Klan  with  infamy, "  John  went  on  evenly. 
"If  you  have  even  the  rudiments  of  common  sense 
you  must  know  that  within  a  few  weeks  these 
fools  will  be  beyond  your  control. " 

"I  haven't  felt  the  need  of  your  help  as  yet,** 
interrupted  Steve. 

"No,  but  I'm  generous.  I  volunteer  to  antici- 
pate the  needs  of  your  weak  intelligence. " 

"John  Graham,"  Steve  broke  in  angrily,  "if 
you  have  anything  to  say  to  me,  say  it,  and  get  out 
of  this  room!" 

"  I  will  say  it,  my  boy,  and — don't — you — forget 


98  THE  TRAITOR 

it!"  John  answered  with  quiet  emphasis,  taking 
a  step  closer  to  his  rival.  "I'm  close  on  the  track 
of  the  men  who  are  at  present  terrorising  this 
county.  I'll  come  up  with  them  some  night  and 
there'll  be  business  for  the  coroner  next  day.  Dare 
to  permit  another  outrage  of  a  personal  character 
in  this  county  and  I'll  find  your  men  if  I  drag  the 
bottom  of  hell  for  them,  and  when  I  do,  I'll  hang 
them  to  a  tree  in  front  of  your  door.  And — mark 
you — if  I  fail  to  find  them  I'll — hold — ^you — 
personally — responsible ! " 

Before  Steve  could  reply  he  turned  on  his  heel, 
slammed  the  door  and  left. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE    MASQUERADERS 

IMMEDIATELY  following  the  interview  with 
Steve  the  character  of  the  raids  of  the  new 
Klan  changed  to  harmless  pranks  and  practical 
jokes  on  impudent  Negroes,  scalawags  and  car- 
petbaggers, and  John  Graham  observed  it  with  a 
sigh  of  relief.  Some  of  these  escapades  he  could 
have  enjoyed  himself — particularly  a  call  they 
made  on  the  Apostle  of  Sanctification. 

Uncle  Isaac  had  greatly  increased  his  prestige 
and  following  since  the  sensational  speech  he  made 
in  the  County  Convention  and  his  public  associa- 
tion with  Larkin. 

Following  up  his  victory  over  the  seven  devils 
in  Aunt  Julie  Ann,  he  had  begun  a  series  of  revival 
meetings  in  the  Northern  Methodist  church,  calling 
its  members  to  come  up  still  higher.  With  each 
night  his  fervour  and  eloquence  had  increased.  On 
this  particular  evening  he  attained  unheard-of 
heights  of  inspiration,  and  announced  not  only 
his  sinless  perfection  and  his  apostolic  call,  but  the 
more  startling  fact  that  he  was  in  daily  personal 
communication  with   Jehovah   himself.     Amid  a 

99 


100  THE  TRAITOR 

chorus  of'Amens"  and  "Glory  hallelujahs"  from 
the  sisters  he  boldly  declared: 

"Hear  de  Lawd's  messenger!  I  come  straight 
from  him.  De  Lawd  come  every  day  ter  my 
house.  I  sees  him  wid  my  own  eyes.  De  debbil 
he  doan  pester  me  no  mo.  I'se  de  Lawd's  sanc- 
tified one.  I  done  wipe  my  weepin'  eyes  an'  gone 
up  on  high.  Will  ye  come  wid  me  breddren  an' 
sisters!  I  walk  in  de  cool  er  de  mawnin  an'  de 
shank  er  de  even'  wid  de  Lawd  and  de  Lawd 
walks  wid  me.  An'  I  ain't  er  skeered  er  nuttin  in 
heaben  above  er  hell  below." 

He  had  scarcely  uttered  the  words  when  a  white- 
robed  ghost,  fully  ten  feet  high,  walked  solemnly 
down  the  aisle.  There  was  a  moment  of  awful 
silence.  Isaac's  jaw  dropped  in  speechless  terror. 
A  sister  in  the  amen  corner  screamed,  and  the 
Apostle  sprang  through  the  window  behind  the 
pulpit  without  a  word,  carrying  the  sash  with  him. 
In  a  minute  the  church  was  empty  and  the  revival 
of  Sanctification  came  to  an  untimely  end. 

It  soon  became  the  fashion  for  these  merry 
masqueraders  to  call  in  groups  on  the  pretty  girls 
in  town  with  the  offer  of  their  knightly  protection. 
Frequently  they  spent  the  evening  dancing  and 
making  merry,  always  in  full  disguise,  guarding 
with  the  utmost  care  their  identity.  The  mystery 
attending  such  visits,  their  secret  signs  and  pass- 


THE  MASQUERADERS  loi 

words,  and  the  thrilling  call  of  their  whistles  gave 
to  these  performances  a  peculiar  atmosphere  of 
romance  and  daring,  and  their  visits  came  to  be 
prized  by  the  fair  ones  as  tributes  to  their  beauty 
and  popularity. 

A  sign  of  invitation  was  devised  by  order  of  the 
leader  of  the  raiders  and  posted  one  night  on  the 
bulletin  board  of  the  post  office.  The  girl  who 
wished  the  honour  of  such  a  call  had  only  to  ex- 
press it  by  walking  through  the  main  street  to  the 
post  office  with  a  scarlet  bow  of  ribbon  tied  on  her 
left  arm,  and  on  the  night  following,  promptly  at 
ten  o'clock,  the  knights  on  their  white-robed 
horses  would  call. 

Stella  Butler  had  immediately  become  the  most 
popular  girl  in  Independence  in  spite  of  her  father's 
politics.  Her  beauty  was  resistless.  Every  boy 
on  whom  she  chose  to  smile  was  at  once  her  friend 
and  champion.  The  old  Graham  house  became 
the  most  popular  meeting  place  of  the  youth  and 
beauty  of  the  town,  and  the  only  men  not  welcome 
there  were  its  real  owner  and  his  pugnacious 
younger  brother. 

Stella  was  fairly  intoxicated  with  her  social 
victory.  Steve  led  in  the  devoted  circle  of  her 
admirers,  each  day  pressing  his  suit  with  humble 
and  dogged  persistence.  She  smiled  in  triumph 
at  his  abject  surrender  but  continued  to  keep  hirn 


102  THE  TRAITOR 

at  arm's  length,  showering  her  favours  on  all  who 
were  worth  while. 

She  determined  to  crown  her  social  leadership 
with  a  unique  fancy  dress  ball  by  inviting  the  Klan 
masqueraders  to  dance  with  a  select  group  of  her 
girl  friends  at  her  home.  The  Klan  itself  was  too 
deep  a  mystery  for  her  to  note  the  difference  in 
the  character  of  the  raids  since  the  night  its  gallant 
horsemen  had  cheered  at  her  father's  gate.  She 
only  knew  in  a  general  way  that  the  Klan  was  born 
in  the  unconquered  and  unconquerable  spirit  of 
the  old  Bourbon  South,  the  South  of  her  mother, 
the  only  South  worth  cultivating  socially. 

So  when  the  Judge's  beautiful  daughter,  radiant 
and  smiling,  walked  down  the  main  street  of 
Independence  with  the  scarlet  sign  of  the  Klan 
on  her  left  arm,  she  paralysed  the  business  of 
the  town.  Every  clerk  stopped  work  and  took 
his  stand  at  the  door  or  window  until  she  was 
out  of  sight. 

Her  name  was  on  every  lip.  If  the  raiders 
should  accept  her  invitation,  and  appear  at  the 
old  Graham  mansion  the  evening  following,  the 
Judge  would  be  in  the  anomalous  position  of  a 
host  who  seeks  the  life  of  his  guests.  For  the 
destruction  of  the  Klan  by  exile,  imprisonment 
and  death  had  become  the  main  plank  in  his 
poHtical   platform   under  Larkin's  guidance. 


THE  MASQUERADERS  103 

Before  Stella  reached  home  the  town  was  in  a 
ferment  of  excitement  to  know  whether  the  Judge 
had  given  his  consent  to  this  daring  act.  The 
older  heads  were  sure  that  it  was  a  child's  thought- 
less whim  and  that  Butler  would  promptly  and 
vigorously  repudiate  it. 

John  stood  in  the  shadow  by  the  window  of  his 
office  and  watched  her  pass  in  anguish.  He  saw 
in  this  invitation  the  complete  triumph  of  the  man 
he  was  coming  to  hate  with  deeper  loathing  than 
he  had  ever  felt  for  her  father.  He  was  sure  it 
was  an  inspiration  of  Steve  Hoyle. 

He  observed  old  Larkin  talking  earnestly  to 
Isaac  on  the  other  side  of  the  street,  and  began  to 
regret  that  the  regiment  of  United  States  troops 
had  been  removed  on  the  Carpetbagger's  advice. 

Were  they  here,  he  would  suggest  to  the  Judge 
that  they  be  stationed  about  his  home  to-morrow 
night  and  those  masked  fools  be  kept  out.  He 
resented  such  a  masquerade,  not  only  because  it 
was  a  travesty  of  the  tragic  drama  in  which  he 
had  played  a  part,  but  because  he  felt  a  deep 
sense  of  foreboding  over  the  possible  outcome  of 
the  affair.  However  harmless  the  intentions  of 
the  leaders  of  such  a  prank,  there  was  always  the 
chance  of  a  drunken  fool  among  them. 

"My  God,"  he  exclaimed  with  a  shiver  of  dread, 
"what  will  happen  if  the  Judge  in  an  ugly  stupid 


104  THE  TRAITOR 

temper  encounters  one  of  those  masked  fools 
maddened  by  drink!" 

He  sat  down  and  hastily  wrote  a  note  of  warning 
to  Butler  without  a  signature,  tore  it  up  in  anger 
and  threw  it  in  his  waste  basket. 

"Bah!  it's  nonsense!"  he  muttered  in  rage. 
*'Her  father  is  in  no  danger.  The  trouble  is  with 
me — I'm  jealous,  jealous,  jealous!  of  the  men  who 
can  see  her.  I  want  to  dance  with  her  myself. 
I'm  mad  with  a  passion  I  dare  not  breathe  aloud." 

Yet  the  longer  he  brooded  over  the  thing,  the 
keener  became  his  sense  of  its  dangers  and  the 
more  oppressive  the  fear  that  it  would  result  in 
a    tragedy. 

He  sat  down  and  rewrote  his  warning  to  the 
Judge,  crossed  the  street  and  dropped  the  letter 
in  the  post  office. 


CHAPTER  IX 

A   COUNTER   STROKE 

WHEN  John  returned  to' his  desk  he  found 
Dan  Wiley  standing  in  the  middle  of  the 
room  pulling  his  long  black  moustache  with  un- 
usual energy. 

The  young  lawyer  seated  himself  and  motioned 
the  mountaineer  to  a  chair. 

"No  time  ter  fool." 

"What's  up?" 

"Hell's  afloat  and  the  river's  a  risin!" 

"Well?" 

"Steve's  gang  from  up  in  the  hills  in  my  town- 
ship is  on  the  way  ter  Independence.  They're 
goin'  ter  raid  old  Sam  Nickaroshinski,  the  Jew 
storekeeper,  and  rob  'im  ter-night." 

"Nonsense,  Dan,  they  haven't  got  that  low." 

"Hit's  jest  like  I  tell  ye.  They're  a  gang  of 
fightin'  drunken  devils.  They'll  do  anything. 
I  got  a  man  to  join  'em,  an'  he  gimme  the  whole 
plot.  Steve  Hoyle  don't  know  nothin'  about  it 
no  more  than  theix  township   leader  does." 

"Did  you  bring  your  men?"  John  asked. 

"Yes,   a   half  dozen.     They  ain't    but  six   er 

105 


io6  THE  TRAITOR 

them  skunks  comin'.  Our  fellers  are  lyin'  out 
in  the  woods  at  the  spring  where  we  met  you  the 
last  time." 

John  leaped  to  his  feet  with  a  sudden  resolution. 

I'll  join  you  at  eight  o'clock  to-night  and  we'll 
give  the  gentlemen  from  the  hills  an  unexpected 
reception."  He  seized  his  hat  and  closed  his 
office.  As  Dan  turned  to  go  he  gave  the  low 
quick  order: 

"  Gags  and  ropes  for  six.  Lay  low  and  don't  let 
anybody   know  you're   in   town." 

"I  understand,"  said  the  mountaineer,  with 
a  grin. 

"  John  hurried  home,  and  found  to  his  annoyance 
that  Mrs.  Wilson  had  gone  buggy  riding  with 
Billy  and  left  the  entire  work  of  the  house  to 
Susie. 

"I  hate  to  put  more  responsibility  on  your 
beautiful  young  shoulders.  Miss  Susie,"  John 
said  hurriedly,  "but  I  must  beg  you  to  stop  your 
work  and  make  me  a  regalia  for  a  little  parade 
to-night — you  understand — will  you  do  it?" 

"With  pleasure,"  was  the  smiling  answer. 
"  I'll  forgive  Mama  her  idiotic  trip  with  Billy 
for  this  chance  to  serve  you."  She  looked 
tenderly  into  John's  eyes. 

Before  sundown  the  costume  was  finished  and 
fitted  to  the  tall  figure  by  Susie's  swift  and  gentle 


A  COUNTER  STROKE  107 

hands  and  the  last  scrap  of  the  cloth  gathered  up 
and  piled  in  her  work-basket  before  the  first 
boarder  arrived.  Supper  was  an  hour  late,  but 
Susie  was  singing  at  her  work  when  Mrs,  Wilson 
and  Billy  returned  after  dark. 

Nickaroshinski's  cottage  was  situated  on  the 
edge  of  a  deep  forest  two  miles  out  of  town.  It 
was  a  well-known  fact  that  the  old  Jew  walked  to 
and  from  his  store  every  morning  and  evening 
alone.  And  it  was  popularly  believed  that  he 
hoarded  his  money  under  the  floor  of  his  bedroom. 

Had  any  other  man  than  Dan  Wiley  reported 
to  John  Graham  such  a  projected  raid,  it  would 
have  been  beyond  his  belief.  The  old  Jew  was 
on  good  terms  with  everybody.  A  refugee  from 
Poland,  his  instinctive  sympathies  had  always 
been  with  the  oppressed  people  of  the  South,  and 
to  their  cause  he  had  faithfully  given  what 
influence  he  possessed. 

The  idea  of  such  an  atrocity  by  men  wearing 
the  uniform  of  his  Klan  roused  John  to  the  highest 
pitch  of  indignation.  He  was  determined  to 
make  an  example  of  these  scoundrels  that  would 
not  be  forgotten. 

The  stars  were  shining  brightly  when  he  started 
with  his  men  to  the  old  Jew's  place. 

It  was  with  a  queer  consciousness  of  the  irony 
oi"  fate    that  he  galloped  through  the  shadows  to 


io8  THE  TRAITOR 

strike  horsemen  who  were  wearing  the  uniform 
of  the  mysterious  order  he  had  helped  to  create. 
The  wind  freshened  and  grew  chill,  heavy  clouds 
obscuring  the  sky.  The  darkness  became 
intense. 

He  carefully  placed  his  men  in  positions  to 
guard  every  approach  to  the  house,  and  walked 
to  the  door  to  warn  the  Jew  of  his  danger  and 
arrange  for  the  capture  of  the  raiders. 

A  sudden  crash  and  groan  within  told  him  only 
too  plainly  that  the  scoundrels  were  already  inside. 

Gathering  his  men  John  closed  in  on  the  house. 
As  he  expected  they  had  put  out  no  pickets,  never 
dreaming  that  they  would  be  molested.  They 
had  bound  Nickaroshinski,  beaten  him  unmerci- 
fully and  tortured  him  until  they  had  secured  his 
money  and,  not  satisfied,  had  begun  to  smash  things 
to  pieces. 

Looking  through  the  window  John  saw  that 
their  costumes  were  exactly  like  his  own  and  that 
the  six  men  had  scattered  through  the  house  bent 
on  plundering  every  nook  and  corner.  Knowing 
that  it  would  be  impossible  for  them  to  distinguish 
their  own  men  from  his,  he  made  at  once  his  plan 
to  capture  the  crowd  without  a  struggle.  Station- 
ing his  own  six  men  at  the  front  door,  he  took  Dan 
Wiley  and  boldly  entered  the  room  where  the 
leader  stood  covering  the  Jew  with  his  revolver. 


A  COUNTER  STROKE  109 

Without  a  word  they  walked  toward  him  in  the 
dim  Hght. 

Merely  glancing  at  them   the   leader  growled: 

"Finish  up  and  let's  get  away  from  here!" 

"All  right,"  John  answered  coming  closer, 
"  I'm  getting  in  a  hurry  myself." 

Before  he  knew  what  they  meant,  Dan  pounced 
on  him  and  pinioned  his  arms  while  John  quickly 
covered  his  mouth  and  fixed  the  gag. 

It  was  but  the  work  of  a  moment  to  tie  the  wretch 
and  pass  him  out  the  door  to  the  grim  figures  wait- 
ing. They  repeated  this  performance  in  each  room 
until  all  but  two  had  been  taken.  These  two  were 
together.  John  suddenly  blew  his  whistle  giving 
the  Klan  signal  "  Follow  me."  When  they  entered 
the  room  two  revolvers  were  suddenly  thrust  under 
their  noses.     They  surrendered  without  a  struggle. 

John  quickly  released  the  old  man,  bound  his 
wounds,  restored  his  money  and  left  with  his 
prisoners. 

Each  of  them  were  given  forty  lashes  and  the 
next  morning  when  Steve  Hoyle  woke  he  found 
six  stripe-marked  half-naked  men  gagged  and 
bleeding  dangling  by  their  arms  from  the  hmbs  of 
the  trees  on  his  lawn.  Around  the  neck  of  each 
hung  a  placard:  "A  warning  to  the  scoundrels 
who  are  disgracing  the  uniform  of  the  Ku  Klux 
Klan  in  this  county."    , 


CHAPTER  X 

THE    STRENGTH    OF   THE    WEAK 

STEVE  HOYLE  had  cut  down  his  men  and 
hustled  them  out  of  town  before  eight 
o'clock,  but  the  news  rapidly  spread  and  had 
thrown  the  people  into  a  tremor  of  wonder  as 
to  the  meaning  of  the  events  of  the  night.  Evi- 
dently there  had  been  a  clash  of  forces  within  the 
ranks  of  the  Invisible  Empire.    What  did  it  mean  ? 

Steve  had  lost  no  time  in  explaining  to  the 
desperadoes  from  the  hills  what  they  wished  to 
know,  and  they  had  left  with  deep  muttered 
curses  against  their  former  Commander-in-chief. 

The  outrage  on  Nickaroshinski  had  aroused 
the  fiercest  passions  between  the  friends  of  John 
Graham  and  Steve  Hoyle.  Excited  groups  stood 
on  every  corner  and  it  was  with  the  utmost  dif- 
ficulty that  John  succeeded  finally  in  dispersing 
them  without  a  clash. 

At  one  o'clock  Larkin  called  at  the  old  Graham 
mansion  and  announced  to  Aunt  JuHe  Ann 
his  desire  to  see  the  Judge. 

"Ye  can't  see  'im,"  was  her  contemptuous 
answer. 

no 


THE  STRENGTH  OF  THE  WEAK    iii 

Larkin  had  captured  Isaac,  but  his  influence 
had  not  reached  his  wife.  For  any  white  man 
who  stayed  at  a  Negro's  house  her  contempt  was 
beyond  words.  That  the  house  happened  to  be 
her  husband's  only  aggravated  the  offence. 

*'I  must  see  him,"  urged  Larkin. 

"He's  in  bed  sick,  I  tell  ye!" 

"But  you  had'nt  told  me,"  protested  the 
Carpetbagger. 

"Well  I  tells  ye  now.  De  Judge  ain't  lif  his 
head  offen  de  piller  ter-day.  De  ghosts  wuz  here 
agin  las'  night — an'  you'd  better  be  a  movin'  'fore 
Miss  Stella  find  you  here.  She  sick  de  dog  on 
you. 

Larkin  took  a  threatening  step  toward  her  and 
said  in  low  tones: 

"  Shut  your  mouth,  and  tell  the  Judge  I'm  here 
to   see    him    on    important    business.       I'm    not 

going  out  of  this  house  until  I  do  see  him.     Tell 

h>> 
im  so. 

Aunt  Julie  Ann  turned  muttering  and  slowly 
climbed  the  stairs  to  Butler's  room. 

In  a  moment  the  Judge  came  down,  hastily 
dressed  in  a  faded  slouchy  dressing-gown  and  a 
pair  of  bedroom  slippers. 

"  Is  it  possible,"  exclaimed  Larkin,"  that  you 
know  nothing  of  what's  happened  here  within  the 
past  twenty-four  hours?'* 


112  THE  TRAITOR 


«  T> 


I've    been    sick    in    bed.     Haven't    left    the 
house, "  was  the  nervous  reply. 

"Well,  it's  time  you  knew  at  least  what  is  going 
on  in  the  house." 

The  Judge  shivered  and  glanced  up  into  the 
galleries. 

"What  do  you  mean  .?"  he  feebly  asked. 

Larkin  rapidly  sketched  to  him  the  events 
which  had  thrown  the  town  into  a  ferment. 

"  But  what  I  called  for,"  observed  the  Carpet- 
bagger, "was  to  enquire,  as  your  political  adviser, 
whether  you  really  intend  to  permit  your  daughter 
to  receive  here  to-night  this  gang  of  masked  cut- 
throats as  your  guests?" 

The  Judge  rose  trembling. 

"My  daughter  receive  the  Ku  Klux  Klan  here 
to-night?"  he   gasped. 

"She  has  invited  them,  and  in  spite  of  the 
excitement  it  is  rumoured  that  they  will  promptly 
appear  in  full  costume  at  ten  o'clock." 

"Impossible,  Larkin,  impossible!  They  won't 
dare  such  a  thing.  Besides,  of  course,  my  daughter 
will  stop  it." 

"  How  can  she  stop  it  ?  Her  invitation  was  by 
their  sign  of  the  scarlet  bow.  They  have  devised 
no  signal  to  stop  such  a  festival." 

"She  must  find  a  way  at  once,"  cried  the  Judge 
excitedly,  "otherwise  we  must  wire  for  troops." 


THE  STRENGTH  OF  THE  WEAK    113 

"It's  too  late." 

"We'll  order  a  special  if  necessary.  I'll  call 
my  daughter  at  once." 

Larkin  rose  as  if  to  go. 

"Wait,"  continued  the  Judge,  "I  wish  you  to 
be  present." 

He  summoned  Maggie,  sent  for  Stella,  and 
picked  up  his  mail  lying  on  the  centre  table,  and 
opened  it  with  fumbling  nervous  fingers  while 
awaiting  his  daughter's  appearance. 

The  Carpetbagger  smiled  contemptuously  at 
his  lack  of  good  breeding,  and  studied  the  room 
while  the  Judge  read  his  letters. 

"  I  see  here  some  friend  has  written  me  a  warn- 
ing against  the  dangers  of  such  a  meeting, "  cried 
Butler,  his  beady  eyes  dancing  with  excitement. 
"We  must  stop  it,  Larkin,  we  must  stop  it!" 

Maggie  slowly  descended  the  stairs. 

"Well,  well,  where's  your  mistress?"  splut- 
tered the  Judge. 

"Miss  Stella  say  she  busy  tryin'  on  a  dress  an' 
she  can't  come  now." 

Butler  turned  on  Maggie  with  sudden  fury. 

"Go  back,  you  little  black  imp  of  the  devil,  and 
tell  her  to  come  down  immediately!  Immediately, 
I    say!" 

"Yassah!  Yassah!"  Maggie  panted.  She 
turned  back  up  the  stairs  jumping  three  steps  at 


114  THE  TRAITOR 

a  time,  and  fell  sprawling  across  the  top  landing. 
She  reached  Stella's  room  gasping  for  breath. 

Stella  turned  leisurely  from  her  mirror. 

"What  on  earth's  the  matter,  Maggie?" 

"De  Jedge  say  ef  you  doan  come  dar  dis  minute 
he  gwine  ter  come  up  here  and  slap  yo  head  off!" 

"As  bad  as  that,  Maggie.?" 

"Yassam.  He  flung  a  big  book  at  me  an'  hit 
me  right  in  the  head  jes  case  I  tell  'im  what  you 
say.     Didn't  ye  hear  it?" 

Stella  continued  deliberately  curling  the  ringlets 
about  the  edges  of  her  raven  hair. 

"Go  back  and  tell  him  I'll  be  down  in 
a   minute." 

"Yassum.     I  spec  he  kill  me  dis  time." 

Stella  finished  her  hair,  sat  down  by  the  window 
and  read  a  novel  for  ten  minutes  and  then  slowly 
descended  the  stairs. 

The  Judge  sat  slouching  low  in  his  chair,  and 
Larkin  rose  with  the  instinctive  impulse  of  a 
gentleman   on    Stella's    appearance. 

The  girl  stared  coldly  at  her  father,  noted  his 
dressing-gown,  turned  hastily  toward  the  stairs 
and  began  to  ascend. 

"Excuse  me,"  she  said  to  him  with  pointed 
insolence,  "I  thought  you  were  waiting  to 
receive  me. " 

"Look  here,  my  child,   I've  no  time  for  silly 


THE  STRENGTH  OF  THE  WEAK    115 

nonsense!"  the  Judge  exclaimed,  adjusting  the 
folds  of  his  slouchy  robe. 

"When  you  have  completed  your  toilet,"  she 
said  with  a  sneering  little  smile,  "I'll  come  at 
once.     Please  let  me  know." 

"Stella!"  sternly  called  her  father. 

The  girl  continued  without  turning  her  head 
and  disappeared  on  the  floor  above. 

"A  stickler  for  social  forms,  Larkin,"  said  the 
Judge  petulantly,   rising. 

"I  see,"  said  the  Carpetbagger  with  amusement. 

"I'll  have  to  humour  her.  Wait  for  me.  We 
must  stop  it." 

When  at  length  the  Judge  returned  and  con- 
fronted Stella  he  was  unnerved,  while  she  stood 
staring  at  him  with  a  hard  glitter  in  her  great 
brown  eyes,  complete  mistress  of  every  faculty  she 
possessed. 

"My  child,"  began  Butler,  "Larkin  tells  me 
that  you  have  invited  the  Ku  Klux  raiders  to 
dance  here  to-night." 

"  I  have,"  was  the  cool  answer. 

"But  my  dear,  you  should  have  consulted  me." 

"You  made  me  the  mistress  of  this  house;  why 
should  I  consult  you  about  a  harmless  social 
gathering  of  my  friends  ?" 

"The  Klan  is  a  secret  order  of  assassins  and 
desperadoes. " 


ii6  THE  TRAITOR 

"Please  father,  don't!"  she  interrupted.  "Your 
poHtics  disgust  me.  These  boys  are  of  the  best 
famihes  in  town. " 

"  How  can  you  know  this  ? "  pleaded  the  Judge. 
"  They  come  disguised.  Not  one  of  them  has  ever 
made  himself  known." 

"  Which  makes  the  romance  of  such  a  visit  all  the 
deeper." 

"And  its  dangers  all  the  greater,  my  child. 
Mr.  Larkin  has  come  to  warn  me." 

"I  agree  with  your  father,  Miss  Stella,"  said 
Larkin  with  a  grave  bow. 

The  girl  tossed  her  head  with  contempt. 
"And  I  have  in  my  hand  a  letter  of  warning 
from  an  unknown  friend,"  continued  Butler. 

"But  you  are  not  really  afraid  ?"  cried  the  girl 
with  scorn.  "I  refuse  to  believe  my  own  father 
the  contemptible  coward  your  enemies  have 
called  you." 

"Have    you    heard    of   the    criminal    outrages 
committed  last  night  by  those  masked  raiders  ?" 
They  do  not  interest  me." 
'You  must  remember,  my  dear,  that  I  have 
sworn  to  send  these  men  to  the  gallows." 

"I  can't  help  your  political  bluster.  I  refuse 
to  sacrifice  my  social  career  and  insult  my  friends 
for  your  dirty  politics." 

"And  you    can    not  see  that  the  presence  of 


THE  STRENGTH  OF  THE  WEAK    117 

these  masked  men  in  this  house  would  be  a  mortal 
insult  to  me  ?'* 

"  Certainly  not.  A  crowd  of  gay  masqueraders 
who  come  to  do  me  honour. " 

"You  must  stop  it,  my  child. " 

"  It  is  impossible  now.  My  friends  are  getting 
ready.     I've  hired  a  band." 

"You  refuse  to  respect  my  wishes?" 

"I  refuse  to  make  a  fool  of  myself!" 

"Come,  my  dear,  you  must  be  reasonable.  I 
know  I've  spoiled  you.  I've  loved  you  too  well. 
I've  indulged  every  whim  of  your  heart  and 
allowed  you  to  rule  me,  but  you  can't  do  this 
absurd  and  dangerous  thing.  You  forget  that 
you  are  not  only  making  a  fool  of  me  but  that  you 
are  putting  my  life  in  jeopardy. " 

"I'll  assume  the  responsibility!"  she  broke  in, 
drawing  herself  up  with  pride.  "If  you  receive 
the  slightest  insult  or  a  hair  of  your  head  is  harmed 
I'll  give  my  life  to  avenge  it." 

"You  persist?"  asked  her  father  with  a  scowl. 

"  I  do,"  flashed  the  answer. 

The  Judge  rose,  hesitated  a  moment  and  then 
said  with  stern  determination: 

"  Then  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  I  forbid  you 
a  thing  on  which  you  have  set  your  heart.  These 
masked  men  shall  not  enter  my  house!" 

Stella's  eyes  flashed  fire. 


ii8  THE  TRAITOR 

"They  shall  come!"  she  cried. 

"Larkin,"  said  the  Judge,  turning  to  the 
Carpetbagger,  *'  I  shall  have  to  ask  you  to  go  to 
the  telegraph  office  and  order  the  troops  here  on  a 
special.  Ask  them  to  protect  me  to-night  from 
these  assassins." 

Stella's  figure  suddenly  stiffened  with  incontrol- 
lable  rage.  She  clenched  her  fists  and  sprang  in 
front  of  her  father  screaming. 

"Don't  you  dare  insult  me  by  applying  such 
epithets  to  my  friends!  If  you  are  my  father,  you 
are  a  poltroon  and  a  coward!" 

"Stella,    my    darling!"   gasped    the    Judge. 

"Don't  you  call  me  darling!  Don't  you  dare 
to  speak  to  me  again!  I'll  leave  this  house  and 
blot  your  very  name  from  my  memory!" 

Butler  staggered  back  in  dumb  amazement  and 
Larkin  watched  with  a  curious  smile  playing 
about  the  corners  of  his  piercing  eyes. 

Stella  stamped  her  foot,  turned,  and  bounded 
up  the  stairs  and  into  her  room,  slammed  the  door 
and  began  to  scream. 

The  Judge  stood  for  a  moment  in  speechless 
horror.  He  had  never  crossed  her  imperious  will 
before  and  he  was  utterly  unprepared  for  her  mad 
outburst.  He  loved  her  with  all  the  tenderness 
of  which  his  low  nature  was  capable,  and  had 
never  seen  a  woman  in  hysterics.     He  had  therefore 


THE  STRENGTH  OF  THE  WEAK   119 

no  standard  by  which  to  measure  how  much 
of  pure  devil  and  how  much  of  real  suffering  were 
mingled  in  her  cries.  Each  piercing  scream  tore  his 
heart.     He  turned  helplessly  to  Larkin  and  asked: 

"What  shall  I  do.?" 

"Excuse  me  Judge,  I  can't  advise  you  in  such 
a  matter,"  the  Carpetbagger  replied.  "  But  I 
think  you'll  have  to  summon  a  doctor." 

"My  God,  is  she  in  danger?"  he  asked,  in  a 
stupor  of  pain.     "I'll  go  up  and  see." 

He  shuffled  up  the  stairs  as  quickly  as  possible, 
and  hurried  into  her  room  without  knocking. 

Stella  sprang  from  the  bed  where  she  lay  moan- 
ing, laughing  and  crying,  and  flew  at  him,  stamp- 
ing and  screaming: 

"Don't  you  come  near  me.  Don't  you  touch 
me!  Don't  you  speak  tome!  Getout  of  this  room!" 

"But  my  dear,"  stammered  the  Judge. 

"Get  out  of  this  room — get  out  of  this  room! 
or  I'll  jump  out  of  that  window  and  kill  myself!" 

She  seized  him  by  the  arm,  hustled  and  pushed 
him  out  of  the  door,  slammed  and  locked  it. 
Again  she  threw  herself  on  the  bed  and  burst  into 
strangling  groans. 

The  Judge  retreated  to  the  hall  below,  his  eyes 
filled  with  tears,  his  heart  sick  with  terror.  He 
dropped  into  a  seat,  covered  his  face  with  his  hands 
and  sat  for  a  moment  in  stupid  pain. 


120  THE  TRAITOR 

Maggie  suddenly  plunged  down  the  stairs 
yelling: 

"  Goddermighty,  ye  better  run  fur  de  doctor 
quick — Miss  Stella  dying!  She  done  choke  ter 
death!" 

"I'll  bring  the  doctor,"  said  Larkin,  rising 
quickly. 

"Run  and  bring  Aunt  JuHe  Ann!"  whispered 
the  Judge  to  Maggie. 

The  maid  met  Aunt  Julie  Ann  who  had  heard 
the  commotion  and  the  two  hurried  back  to  Stella's 
room. 

When  the  doctor  came  she  refused  to  see  him, 
and  he  left  in  a  rage.  The  Judge  begged  Larkin 
to  stay  until  he  could  see  his  daughter. 

An  hour  later,  propped  up  in  bed  with  Maggie 
rubbing  one  hand  and  Aunt  Julie  Ann  the  other, 
she  permitted  her  father  to  enter  and  receive  her 
pardon.  The  Judge  knelt  by  the  bedside,  kissed 
her  hand  and  wet  it  with  tears.  His  surrender 
was  abject.  He  sent  Larkin  away  and  promised 
to  be  present  at  the  ball  and  treat  the  whole  thing 
as  a  schoolboys'  frolic. 

And  then  she  smiled  and  kissed  him. 

"If  I'm  only  strong  enough  to  dress  by  ten 
o'clock!"  she  cried,  laughing. 

"Try  to  eat  something,  dear,"  urged  her  father. 

She   promised    and    asked   Aunt   Julie   Ann   to 


THE  STRENGTH  OF  THE  WEAK    121 

send  her  a  little  soup.     She  got  the  soup  and  with 
it  a  substantial  meal. 

Still  and  catlike,  Maggie  watched  her  eat  it  down 
to  the  last  crumb  with  quiet  enjoyment.  When 
the  black  maid  picked  up  the  tray  she  walled  her 
eyes  first  at  the  empty  dishes  and  then  at  her 
wonderful  little  mistress  and  softly  giggled. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THROUGH    THE    SECRET   PANEL 

AS  THE  hour  approached  for  the  masquera- 
ders  to  appear  at  the  Judge's  John  Graham 
was  drawn  to  the  spot  by  an  irresistible  impulse. 
He  stood  in  the  shadows  of  the  trees  on  the  side- 
walk and  watched  the  little  squadron  of  white 
and  scarlet  horsemen  wheel  into  the  gate  past 
Isaac's  cottage,  and  gallop  swiftly  up  to  the  front 
door  of  the  old  mansion. 

They  had  scarcely  passed  when  Isaac  suddenly 
stepped  from  the  shrubbery  through  the  open 
gateway  and  ran  into  him. 

The  Apostle  gasped  in  terror: 

"De  Lawd,  marse  John,  I  thought  you  wuz  one 
er  dem  ghostes — 'scuse  me,  sah,  I'se  er  gettin' 
away  from  here!" 

John  made  no  reply,  merely  watching  him  until 
he  disappeared. 

Again  he  turned  toward  the  house.  Every 
window  was  gleaming  with  Hght.  The  subdued 
strains  of  a  string  band  came  stealing  through  the 
trailing  roses  on  the  porch,  and  he  fancied  he 
could  catch  the  odour  of  the  flowers  in  their  sweet 

122 


THROUGH  THE  SECRET  PANEL   123 

notes.  Scarcely  knowing  what  he  did,  he  strolled 
into  the  lawn  and  sank  on  a  rustic  bench  with  a 
groan.  He  could  hear  the  gay  banter  of  the  mas- 
queraders  and  the  peals  of  girhsh  laughter  with 
which  their  tomfoolery  was  being  received. 

A  mocking  bird  began  singing  in  the  tree  above 
him,  roused  by  the  music  of  the  band.  Far  off  in 
the  corner  of  the  lawn  in  the  clump  of  holly  and 
cedars  at  the  entrance  of  the  vault  a  whippoorwill 
was  making  the  ravine  ring  with  the  weird  notes 
of  his  ghost-like  call.  The  moon  flooded  the  scene 
with  silvery  splendour.  Crushed  with  a  sense  of 
loneliness  and  failure,  he  felt  to-night  that  he  would 
give  all  the  wealth  and  honours  of  the  earth  for 
one  touch  of  the  hand  of  the  girl  whose  laughter 
lingered  and  echoed  in  his  heart.  And  again  the 
feeling  of  impending  disaster  overwhelmed  him. 

*'Of  course  it's  nonsense!"  he  kept  repeating 
to  himself.  "The  disaster  is  within.  I'm  merely 
a  wounded  animal  caught  in  a  trap,  bleeding  and 
dying  of  thirst,  and  no  one  knows  or  cares,  and  I 
can't  cry  for  help." 

He  tried  to  rise  and  go.  But  something  held 
him  in  a  silent  spell  to  the  spot.  He  sat  dreaming 
out  each  movement  of  the  gay  drama  in  progress 
within. 

Stella  had  welcomed  her  white-robed  guests 
without  the  aid  of  a  servant.     No  Negro  could  be 


124  THE  TRAITOR 

hired  for  love  or  money  to  approach  one  of  these 
ghostly  figures.  Maggie  had  hidden  in  the  closet 
in  her  mistress'  room  and  Aunt  Julie  Ann  had 
barred  herself  inside  the  kitchen  and  refused  to 
answer  a  call. 

In  spite  of  these  little  annoyances  the  beautiful 
young  mistress  of  the  Graham  house,  resplendent 
in  her  ball  dress  costume,  was  in  her  gayest  mood. 

When  the  shrill  whistles  rang  their  summons  at 
the  door,  she  hastened  to  greet  her  mysterious 
guests. 

"And  your  name,  Sir  Knight?'*  she  asked  the 
leader  with  bantering  laughter. 

"We  are  Ghouls!  And  come  from  beyond  the 
river  Styx,  my  lady!"  solemnly  answered  the  tall 
white  figure. 

"Welcome  shades  of  Darkness,  welcome  back 
to  the  world  of  joy  and  light,  song  and  dance,  life 
and  love!"  Stella  cried,  extending  her  hand. 

When  they  had  tied  their  horses  to  the  posts 
beside  the  wide  driveway  they  slowly  entered 
single  file  into  the  great  hall.  Stella,  assisted  by 
Susie  Wilson,  who  had  become  her  fast  friend, 
greeted  each  of  them  with  words  of  gay  welcome. 

They  were  dressed  in  the  regulation  raider's 
costume  of  the  Klan.  The  white  flowing  ulster- 
like robe  came  within  three  inches  of  the  floor.  A 
scarlet  belt  circled  the  waist,  from  either  side  of 


THROUGH  THE  SECRET  PANEL     125 

which  hung  heavy  revolvers  in  leather  holsters. 
A  dagger  was  attached  to  the  centre  of  the  belt,  and 
the  scarlet-lined  white  cape  thrown  back  on  the 
shoulders  revealed  their  militant  trappings  with 
startHng  distinctness.  On  each  breast  was  wrought 
the  emblem  of  the  Invisible  Empire,  the  scarlet 
circle,  and  in  its  centre  a  white  cross.  Spiked 
helmets  of  white  cloth  with  flowing  masks  reached 
to  the  cape  on  each  shoulder,  completely  covering 
the  head  and  face.  With  red  gauntlets  to 
complete  their  costume,  the  disguise  was  absolute. 
The  only  visible  part  of  the  body  was  the  eye, 
gleaming  with  a  strange  steady  supernatural 
brilliance  through  the  holes  cut  in  the  mask.  It 
was  a  curious  fact  that  all  eyes  looked  alike  in  the 
shadows  of  these  trappings  at  night.  They  were 
simply  flashing  points  of  living  light  with  all 
traces  of  colour  lost  in  the  shadows. 

In  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  girls  felt  they  had 
nothing  to  fear  from  the  white  figures,  it  was  with 
a  tremor  of  excitement  they  each  greeted  the 
mysterious  partners  of  their  dance. 

Stella  left  them  talking  romantic  nonsense  of 
knights  and  tournaments,  ghouls  and  ghosts  in 
the  hall  and  ran  up  to  her  father's  room. 

"Oh!  Papa,"  she  cried  with  childish  glee.  "It's 
such  fun!  They're  all  here.  You  will  come  down 
and  join  the  party  as  you  promised  ?" 


126  THE  TRAITOR 

"Yes,  yes,  dear,  I'll  come,  presently,"  said  the 
Judge  with  evident  dread. 

Stella  slipped  her  beautiful  bare  arm  around  his 
neck  and  her  cheek  rested  against  his,  while  the 
soft  little  fingers  found  his  hand. 

"  I'm  awfully  sorry  I  was  so  ugly  to-day,"  she 
said  gently.  "But  I  couldn't  help  it.  I  didn't 
know  I  had  such  a  temper.  I  must  have  gotten 
it  from  you  Dad." 

"  It's  all  right,  my  darling,  if  you'll  never  say  such 
bitter  things  to  me  again — will  you?"  he  asked 
tenderly,  tears  filling  his  eyes. 

"No,  I'll  be  good  now,  if  you'll  forgive  me  ?" 

Her  father  answered  with  a  kiss.  "You  see, 
you're  all  I  have  in  the  world,  my  little  girlie.  I'm 
not  as  strong  as  I  used  to  be.  I  don't  think  I'm 
going  to  live  long." 

"Rubbish!  you've  just  got  the  blues.  Shake 
them  off  and  be  young  again  to-night.  Imagine 
you  are  a  boy  here  with  mother  the  sweetheart 
you're  trying  to  steal  from  the  proud  rich  people 
who   hate   you — come,   come!" 

The  Judge  smiled  in  spite  of  himself.  Her 
mood  was  contagious.  He  stroked  her  hand 
gently. 

"  I'll  be  down  right  away.  Run  on  and  have  a 
good  time." 

"All  right,  I'll  start  the  first  dance  and  you'll  be 


THROUGH  THE  SECRET  PANEL     127 

there  by  the  time  it's  over  and  shake  hands  with 
your  enemies.     It  will  be  so  jolly!" 

Throwing  him  a  kiss  she  returned  to  the  hall 
below  and  led  her  guests  into  the  big  double 
parlours  which  had  been  fitted  up  for  dancing. 
The  French  windows,  opening  as  doors  on  the 
porches,  were  raised,  and  the  band  stationed 
outside   near  one  of  them. 

When  the  dance  had  begun  the  Judge,  dressed 
in  his  usual  broadcloth  frock  coat  which  hung  in 
slouching  lines  from  his  drooping  shoulders, 
slowly  descended  the  stairs  and  stood  embarrassed 
and  hesitating  in  the  hall  a  moment,  and  sat 
down  by  the  centre  table. 

A  masquerader  came  in  from  the  ball  room  for 
the  fan  his  partner  had  left,  and  so  soft  was  his 
footfall  the  Judge  did  not  hear  or  see  him  until 
the  tall  white  figure  suddenly  loomed  above  him 
to  pick  up  the  fan. 

The  apparition  was  so  startling  the  Judge's 
nerves  collapsed.  He  leaped  to  his  feet  with  an 
inarticulate  cry  of  terror,  overturning  his  chair 
and  started  to  bolt  for  the  door. 

The  masquerader  smothered  a  laugh  and  said: 

*'  I  beg  your  pardon,  I  only  wanted  the  fan.  " 

Butler  stammered: 

"Ah — I — must  have  been  dreaming — you — 
startled   me!" 


128  THE  TRAITOR 

He  watched  the  white  figure  disappear,  mopped 
the  perspiration  from  his  brow,  called  Aunt 
Julie  Ann  and  ordered  her  to  bring  him  a  drink 
of  whiskey.  She  refused  to  stir  at  first,  but  he 
threatened  to  discharge  her,  and  she  obeyed. 

When  the  Judge  raised  the  glass  to  his  lips  his 
hand  trembled  so  violently  that  he  spilled  some 
of  the  liquor  on  his  clothes.  He  gulped  it  down 
and  glanced  nervously  about  the  hall. 

He  placed  the  glass  back  on  the  tray  and 
Aunt  Julie  Ann,  watching  the  parlour-door  like 
a  hawk,  started  back  to  the  kitchen  on  a  run. 

"Wait  a  moment,"  cried  the  Judge,  shuffling 
to  his  feet. 

"  I  ain't  gwine  stay  in  here  wid  dem  things  in 
de  house,"  she  answered,  halting  timidly  in  the 
shadows  of  the  door  leading  into  the  dining-room. 

Butler  walked  to  her  side  and  said: 

"Tell  Miss  Stella  I'm  not  feeling  well — I'm 
going  to  bed." 

He  hesitated  a  moment.  "You've  said  nothing 
to  any  one  about  this"  ghost  business  ?" 

"Hush,  man,  hush!  Don't  talk  about  dat 
now!"  she  whispered.  "I  tole  dat  ole  white- 
headed  Larkin — dat's  all." 

"Well,  I  want  to  warn  you,  don't  mention  it  to 
another  living  soul.  I'm  beginning  to  suspect 
that  we've  been  seeing  old  Major  Graham  himself!" 


THROUGH  THE  SECRET  PANEL   129 

"De  Lawd  er  mussy,  man,  how  he  bin  gittin' 
in  de  house  wid  all  de  doors  and  windows  locked 
an'    bolted  ?" 

"That's  a  mystery  I  can't  fathom." 

"No,  ner   nobody   else.     Hit's  his  sperit  I  tells 

ye- 

While  they  were  talking  thus  in  the  alcove  the 
oak  panel  under  the  stairs  was  softly  opened 
and  closed;  old  Major  Graham,  dressed  with 
scrupulous  care,  thin  and  pale  as  a  corpse,  yet 
erect  and  dignified,  walked  slowly  across  the  hall 
to  the  foot  of  the  stairs.  His  lips  were  muttering 
inarticulate  sounds  and  his  wide  staring  eyes  had 
the  far-off  look  of  the  dreamer  who  hves,  breathes 
and  moves,  yet  sees  nothing. 

Butler's  back  was  to  the  Major,  and  Aunt  Julie 
Ann,  hearing  the  footsteps,  was  first  to  see  him. 
She  staggered  against  the  wall  and  gasped: 

"God,  save  us,  dar  he  is  now!" 

Butler  glanced  over  his  shoulder  and  backed 
against  the  huge  figure  of  the  cook,  trembling. 

"Look — look!"  he  whispered.  "It  is  old  Gra- 
ham. Watch  his  thin  bony  fingers  grip  the  rail 
as  he  climbs  the  steps!" 

"Hit's  his  livin'  ghost  I  tell  ye!"  persisted 
Aunt  Juhe  Ann.  "He'll  walk  right  out  on  de 
roof  an'  step  off'n  de  house  des  like  he  does  every 
night — you  won't  see'  'im  again." 


fi  T>I 


130  THE  TRAITOR 

Get   some   more   whiskey!"  said    the   Judge. 

I'll  go  with  you'* — he  added,  following  her  into 
the  dining  room,  mopping  the  perspiration  from 
his    brow. 

"I'll  go  up  there  in  a  minute  and  find  out  the 
truth!" 

*'  Better  keep  outen  dat  attic  I  tells  ye.  Dey  say 
dat  de  ghosts  er  de  livin'  is  wuss   dan  de  dead.'* 

They  had  scarcely  passed  from  the  hall  when  the 
oak  panel  again  opened  and  a  white  masked 
figure  peered  through,  and  quickly  entered. 

The  dress  was  an  exact  duplicate  of  the  masquera- 
ders  down  to  its  minutest  details,  and  only  the 
closest  observer  would  have  noted  the  awkward 
way  in  which  the  figure  moved  as  though  not  in 
the  habit  of  walking  in  his  disguise. 

He  quickly  glanced  about  the  hall,  listened  a 
moment  to  the  sounds  of  revelry  in  the  ballroom, 
closed  the  door  of  the  small  hall  leading  into  it, 
reopened  the  panel  and  signalled. 

In  rapid  succession  eight  more  silent  figures 
filed  through  the  panel  door.  The  leader 
whispered  to  his  followers: 

"He's  in  the  dining  room.  Guard  every 
entrance  now  but  that." 

In  a  moment  a  masked  man  stood  guard  at 
each  door  and  the  leader  lowered  the  lamp  on  the 
table   until  only  the   dim   outlines  of  the  forms 


THROUGH  THE  SECRET  PANEL    131 

could  be  seen,  and  stepped  back  himself  into  the 
shadows  of  the   alcove  by  the  dining  room  door. 

Aunt  Julie  Ann  returned  to  the  kitchen,  and  the 
Judge,  afraid  to  go  upstairs,  came  back  into  the 
hall  to  enter  the  ballroom  as  he  promised  Stella. 

As  he  passed  through  the  door  of  the  dining 
room  the  shrouded  figure  standing  in  the  alcove 
quickly  followed,  cutting  off  this  retreat. 

The  Judge  stopped,  blinked  his  eyes  around 
the  dim  hall  and  muttered: 

"Why,  why,  the  lamp's  gone  out!'*  He  quickly 
crossed  the  space  to  the  table  and  extended  his 
hand  to  turn  up  the  lamp. 

The  figure  behind  him  seized  his  arm  and  a 
guttural  voice  spoke  through  the  mask: 

"  There's  light  enough  for  our  work.  Judge." 

Butler  staggered  back  in  terror  and  glanced 
about  him  at  the  dim  spectres  closing  around  the 
table.  With  an  effort  he  pulled  himself  together 
and    stammered: 

"Why,  of  course,  boys.  I  see!  I  see!  You're 
going  to  initiate  me!  give  me  the  third  degree  first 
— I  see — a  good  joke!" 

"You'll  find  it  a  serious  joke  before  you're 
through,"  rephed  the  leader,  gripping  his  dagger. 

The  Judge  could  see  the  movement  of  his  hand 
as  he  slowly  drew  the  knife  from  its  sheath,  the 
blade  glistening  for  an  instant  in  the  dim  lamp- 


132  THE  TRAITOR 

light,  but  he  still  thought  the  boys  were  playing 
a  prank  on  him. 

"Well,  gentlemen,  have  your  fun!"  he  cried 
with  forced  gaiety,  "Have  your  way,  I'm  at  your 
service.  What  is  the  penalty  I  must  pay  to-night 
for  my  many  sins  against  the  Klan?" 

"The  penalty  is  your  life,"  said  the  mask  with 
sullen  menace  in  his  tones,  stepping  closer,  "unless 
you  agree  to  leave  this  state  to-morrow  and  never 
enter  it  again — will  you  go?" 

"So  bad  as  that?"  The  Judge  forced  a  laugh. 
"What   else?" 

"You  are  not  fooHng  with  boys  now!"  sullenly 
said  the  towering  white  form.      "Give  me  your 

answer,  you  d d  old  sneaking  coward!    Will 

you  go  or  do  you  prefer  to  die  ?" 

Butler,  trembling  now  with  mingled  terror  and 
rage,  cried  angrily: 

"Gentlemen,  your  joke  is  going  too  far!" 
"It'll  go  farther,"  was  the  quick  reply,  as  the 
white  figures  closed  in  threateningly  and  the  fore- 
most man  moved  as  if  to  raise  his  hand. 

"Enough  of  this!  Get  out  of  my  house!" 
Butler  suddenly  shouted,  snatching  the  mask 
from  the  leader's  head  by  a  quick  unexpected 
display  of  courage.  A  cry  of  horror  and  surprise 
leaped  from  his  lips.  The  knife  flashed,  and  was 
buried  in  his  heart.     He  reeled,  staggered,  clutched 


THROUGH  THE  SECRET  PANEL    133 

a  chair  and  sank  with  a  groan  to  a  sitting  posture. 
His  long  awkward  arms  drooped  and  his  head 
sank  slowly  on  his  breast. 

The  leader,  who  had  quickly  replaced  his 
helmet,  bent  over  him  a  moment,  sheathed  his 
knife  and   said: 

"A  good  stroke — all  right — quick  now — open 
the  doors  and  follow  me." 

The  guard  at  the  door  leading  into  the  ballroom 
opened  it  gently  and  the  sweet  strains  of  the  music 
rang  through  the  hall  with  startling  distinctness, 
as  the  white-masked  figures  slowly  disappeared 
through  the  panel  under  the  stairs. 

Aunt  Julie  Ann  who  had  heard  the  Judge's 
cry  and  the  sudden  noise  entered  trembling. 

"Name  er  God  what's  dis!"  she  cried.  "De 
light  gone  out!     De  ghost  done  dat!" 

She  turned  up  the  lamp  and  saw  the  Judge 
sitting  dead  in  the  chair,  the  scarlet  stain  on  his 
clean  ruffled  shirt  holding  her  for  a  moment  in 
speechless  horror. 

Screaming  at  last,  she  rushed  to  the  ballroom 
door  and  shouted: 

"De  Lawd  hab  mussy!  De  ghost  done  kill  de 
Judge — Stab   'im   fro   de   heart!" 

The  music  stopped  with  a  crash  and  the  crowd 
rushed  into  the  hall. 

Stella  stared  at  the  lifeless  form,  her  beautiful 


134  THE  TRAITOR 

face  whiter  than  the  dead,  turnec  to  the  mas- 
queraders  huddled  in  a  group,  drew  herself  proudly 
erect,  pointed  to  the  door  and  said: 

*'Go!" 

Silently  and  quickly  they  left,  and  as  the  last 
beat  of  their  horses'  hoofs  died  away  in  the  distance 
she  lifted  her  face  from  her  father's  hand  which 
she  had  covered  with  kisses,  and  groaned: 

"Forgive  me — forgive  me!  I  have  but  one  aim 
in  life  now — God  give  me  strength!" 


Book  II— A  Woman's  Revenge 

CHAPTER  I 

Stella's  resolution 

THE  murder  of  Judge  Butler  created  a 
profound  sensation  both  in  the  state  and 
the  nation.  The  Northern  press  held  the  Ku 
Klux  Klan  guilty  of  this  atrocious  crime  without 
question,  and  it  was  the  last  straw  needed  to  start 
an  avalanche  of  hostile  legislation  in  Congress 
against  the  entire  South. 

The  famous  Conspiracy  Act  was  rushed  through 
both  houses  of  the  National  Legislature  and 
signed  by  the  President.  It  made  membership 
in  the  secret  order  known  as  the  Ku  Klux  Klan, 
or  Invisible  Empire,  a  felony,  and  provided  for 
the  trial  of  its  members  on  the  charge  of  treason, 
conspiracy  and  murder.  The  President  was 
authorised  to  suspend  the  writ  of  habeas  corpus 
and  proclaim  martial  law  in  any  county  of  the 
Southern  States,  and  use  the  army  and  navy  to 
enforce  his  authority. 

The  Attorney  General  promptly  placed  the 
county  of  Independence  under  military  government, 

J35 


136  THE  TRAITOR 

stationed  two  regiments  of  troops  within  its  bor- 
ders, and  set  to  work  with  scores  of  detectives  to 
find  the  guilty  man. 

Two  months  passed  without  the  sHghtest  pro- 
gress. Five  thousand  dollars  reward  was  offered 
by  the  national  authorities  and  a  similar  sum  by 
the  state.  Not  a  trace  of  the  man  responsible 
for  the  deed  could  be  found,  though  a  price  of  ten 
thousand  dollars  was  set  thus  on  his  head.  A 
number  of  arrests  had  been  made,  but  the  evi- 
dence produced  was  of  so  flimsy  a  character  that 
in  each  instance  the  prisoner  could  not  be  held. 

The  longer  the  case  was  probed,  the  deeper 
became  its  insoluble  aspects.  The  *'  Butler  Mur- 
der Mystery,"  as  it  was  popularly  known,  pro- 
voked the  widest  public  discussion,  both  in  the 
state  and  national  press,  yet  no  explanation  from 
any  quarter  could  be  found. 

The  effects  of  the  crime  on  the  Ku  Klux  raiders 
was  immediate.  Not  a  trace  of  their  existence 
was  left.  The  enormity  of  the  tragedy  had 
evidently  sobered  the  dare-devils  who  had  found 
amusement  or  personal  profit  in  its  activities.  It 
now  became  the  fashion  to  denounce  the  Klan 
and  demand  its  extermination. 

As  the  order  had  never  had  a  spokesman,  it 
had  no  defender.  The  demand  for  its  sup- 
pression   was     universal.     Yet    no    traitor    had 


STELLA'S  RESOLUTION  137 

appeared  among  its  ranks.  The  deepest  curses 
of  a  race  were  reserved  for  the  white  Hp  that  should 
betray  its  members.  Whatever  the  leaders  of 
public  opinion  might  say,  the  masses  of  the  people 
knew  the  necessity  which  had  called  this  dreaded 
order  into  existence — the  black  threat  of  Negro 
dominion.  Thousands  of  women  and  children 
knew  its  secrets  and  held  them  inviolate. 

On  Stella  Butler  the  death  of  her  father  had 
wrought  a  deep  and  remarkable  change.  The 
fun-loving,  imperious,  self-willed,  spoiled  child  had 
suddenly  become  a  serious  woman.  She  had 
given  every  hour  of  her  time  assisting  the  authori- 
ties in  their  search  for  the  murderer  and  had 
followed  every  possible  clue  with  breathless  hope. 

Two  forces  had  driven  her  into  a  morbid  interest 
in  the  crime,  pride  and  remorse.  In  mere  laugh- 
ing banter  she  had  promised  her  father  if  a  single 
insult  should  be  offered  him,  or  a  hair  of  his  head 
harmed,  she  would  give  her  life  to  avenge  the  deed. 
She  had  not  dreamed  of  such  a  possibility.  But 
now  that  the  impossible  had  happened,  she  would 
make  good  her  word  to  the  dead.  And  she  would 
make  it  good,  not  only  because  she  had  promised 
and  her  heart  was  sick  with  remorse  for  the  part 
she  had  unconsciously  played  in  the  tragedy,  but 
for  a  deeper  personal  reason — the  consciousness 
of  the  insult  to  her  pride  which  the  crime  had 


138  THE  TRAITOR 

offered.  The  assassin  had  dared  to  strike  her 
father  dead  in  her  home,  in  her  very  presence. 

Had  the  knife  sought  her  own  heart  she  would 
have  felt  less  deeply  the  wound.  Somewhere  even 
by  her  side  there  stood  amid  the  shadows  of  life 
a  being  who  could  thus  insult  her  by  ignoring  her 
very  existence!  She  resolved  to  make  that  man  feel 
her  power  by  paying  the  penalty  with  his  own 
life.  An  element  of  pitiless  cruelty  in  her  char- 
acter found  for  the  first  time  its  expression  in  a 
passionate  thirst  for  the  blood  of  this  criminal. 

She  had  seen  every  effort  to  penetrate  the  mys- 
tery fail  with  increasing  inward  rage.  Larkin, 
who  had  charge  of  the  Judge's  campaign,  had 
been  aggressive  and  untiring  for  two  weeks  and 
then  had  given  up  and  returned  to  his  duties  as 
Chairman  of  the  State  Executive  Committee. 

The  Attorney  General  announced  his  departure 
for  Washington  and  ordered  the  withdrawal  of  the 
troops  and  detectives. 

Stella  hastened  to  send  her  burning  protest 
against  his  action.  General  Champion,  who  had 
been  deeply  moved  by  her  beauty  and  evident 
suffering,  called  personally  at  the  old  Graham 
mansion  for  an  interview.  He  received  her  indig- 
nant protests  with  the  gravest  courtesy. 

"  Please  don't  tell  me.  General,"  she  began 
bitterly,  *'that  my  father's  death  is  an  apparently 


STELLA'S  RESOLUTION  139 

insoluble  mystery.  I  am  sick,  sick,  sick  of  hearing 
such  rubbish!  Eight  weeks  ago  he  was  murdered 
in  cold  blood  in  this  hall  on  the  very  spot  where 
you  are  now  sitting.  It  was  not  done  by  ghosts, 
it  was  not  an  accident,  it  was  done  by  a  living  man. 
I  refuse  to  recognise  in  it  an  act  of  Providence. 
I  will  not  wear  an  emblem  of  mourning  as  long  as 
this  man  breathes  on  earth.  I  have  sworn  it 
My  father  was  in  the  service  of  his  country  attempt- 
ing to  enforce  its  laws.  I  have  the  right  to  demand 
that  a  rich  and  powerful  government  avenge 
his  death.  It  is  incredible  that  the  coward  who 
did  this  crime  can  not  be  caught  and  punished." 

"Upon  the  other  hand,  my  dear  child,"  said 
the  General,  "  I  assure  you  that  the  apprehension 
of  this  criminal  is  one  of  the  most  difficult  tasks 
ever  assigned  the  Department  of  Justice. " 

"And  why,  pray?" 

"Because  in  this  climate  the  Invisible  Empire 
is  yet  stronger  than  the  visible " 

"You  believe  then  that  the  Klan  committed 
the  deed  ?"  she  asked 

"As  sure  of  it  as  that  I  live.  If  we  were  dealing 
with  the  ordinary  criminal,  it  would  be  easy.  We 
are  dealing  with  larger  problems.  Every  clue 
we  have  found  has  proven  false  for  this  reason. 
The  man  really  responsible  stands  at  our  elbow 
did  we  but  know  the  truth." 


140  THE  TRAITOR 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  Stella  asked  with  sudden 
interest. 

"That  your  father's  death  was  ordered  by  an 
inner  circle  of  the  Invisible  Empire.  He  was 
probably  executed  by  an  individual  who  did  not 
even  know  his  name.  The  occasion  of  the  mas- 
querade ball  was  simply  utilised  for  the  purpose. 
Unless  we  know  the  name  of  the  Chief  of  the  Klan 
in  this  state  no  progress  can  be  made.  This  man 
has  the  power  of  life  and  death  over  his  men.  No 
such  deed  could  have  been  committed  without  his 
order." 

"And  you  are  going  to  give  up  the  search?" 
was  the  eager  question. 

"For  the  present  yes.     It  is  a  waste  of  time." 

"And  you  have  formed  no  idea  as  to  who  this 
Chief  may  be  ?"  asked  the  big  brown  eyes,  flashing 
with  a  new  purpose. 

"I  haven't  a  scrap  of  evidence  that  can  be  used 
in  an  English-speaking  court  of  justice — but  I  am 
morally  certain  that  I  know  the  man." 

"And    if  you   knew  him    by   his   own    confes- 

sion  : 

"I  could  send  him  to  the  gallows  within  thirty 

days." 

"The  man  you  suspect?" 

"John   Graham!" 

Stella  sprang  to  her  feet,  her  face  white  with  an 


STELLA'S  RESOLUTION  141 

emotion  which  stopped  for  a  moment  her  very 
heart-beat. 

"Within  a  month  I'll  tell  you  the  truth" — she 
said  with  laboured  breath. 

"Can   you    do   it?" 

"Beyond  the  shadow  of  a  doubt!"  was  her 
firm  answer. 

The  General  seized  her  hand  as  he  took  his  leave. 

"  If  you  do,  my  child,  you  will  destroy  an  empire 
mightier  than  the  law  of  the  land.  I'll  place  the 
entire  resources  of  the  Department  of  Justice  at 
your  command." 

Stella's  brown  eyes  rested  on  her  own  beautiful 
reflection  in  the  mirror  as  she  slowly  said : 

"Thank  you.  General,  I  have  at  present  all  the 
weapons   I   shall   need." 


CHAPTER  II 

WEIGHED  AND  FOUND  WANTING 

STELLA  was  putting  the  last  touches  to  a 
perfect  toilet  before  meeting  Steve  Hoyle 
who  was  waiting  impatiently  below.  She  had 
given  him  the  sign  for  which  he  had  long  prayed, 
her  permission  for  the  formal  renewal  of  his  suit. 
They  had  remained  friends  on  condition  that  he 
keep  silent  on  the  subject  until  she  gave  him  per- 
mission to  speak.  She  had  done  this  in  the  most 
delicate  way  in  the  note  of  reply  she  had  sent  in 
the  afternoon  to  his  request  for  permission  to  call. 

She  had  determined  to  take  Steve  by  storm 
to-night.  The  secret  on  which  her  heart  was 
set  she  counted  already  within  her  grasp,  yet 
she  would  leave  no  stone  unturned,  neglect  no 
trick  in  all  the  known  realm  of  woman's  art  to 
make  her  victory  absolute. 

Her  refusal  to  put  on  black  at  her  father's 
funeral,  or  wear  it  since,  and  her  declaration  that 
his  death  was  not  the  act  of  God  but  of  the  devil, 
had  shocked  the  tradition-loving  Southern  people 
beyond   measure.     Maggie   had   lost   no   time   in 

telling  her  their  comments.     She  heard  them  with 

14Z 


WEIGHED  AND  FOUND  WANTING  143 

contempt  and  proceeded  to  shock  her  critics  still 
worse  by  establishing  herself  permanently  in  the 
great  lonely  house  with  only  Aunt  Julie  Ann  as  her 
guardian. 

Her  whole  being  was  fused  into  a  single  death- 
less purpose — to  take  the  life  of  the  man  who  had 
killed  her  father.  She  would  stop  at  no  means  to 
accomplish  this  end,  and  she  would  treat  with 
scorn  every  convention  of  society  which  might 
interfere. 

She  slowly  descended  the  winding  stairs  to-night 
before  Steve's  enraptured  gaze,  dressed  in  pure 
white  with  full  train.  A  single  deep  red  rose  was 
set  in  her  black  hair.  Her  arms  were  bare  and  their 
beauty  was  perfect — starting  with  the  tiniest  wrists 
and  swelling  into  full  voluptuous  splendour  above 
the  dimpled  elbows.  She  had  a  way  of  moving 
them  when  she  walked  which  was  modest  yet 
subtle   in    sensuous    suggestion. 

Steve  watched  her  spellbound.  She  placed  her 
hand  in  his  with  a  tender  smile,  the  brown  eyes 
watching  the  effects  of  her  beauty  with  quiet 
triumph. 

She  allowed  Steve  to  silently  lead  her  to  the 
old  davenport  under  the  stairs  and  take  his  seat 
by  her  side. 

"You  meant  what  your  letter  implied?"  he 
asked  eagerly. 


144  THE  TRAITOR 

"I    did,"   was   the   firm   answer. 

"It  seemed  too  good  to  be  true,  dear,  yet  I  felt 
sure  that  you  would  need  me  in  this  crisis  of  your 
life." 

"I  do  need  you.  I  wonder  if  you  will  prove 
wanting  when  put  to   the  test  V' 

"Try  me!"  he  boldly  challenged. 

"You  are  sure  that  you  love  me  with  a  love  that 
will  endure  through  good  and  evil,  through  life 
and  death,  through  every  test.?" 

She  leaned  close,  her  eyes  searching  Steve's 
soul. 

The  man  drew  a  deep  breath  and  his  hand 
grasped  hers  with  fierce  passion. 

"  I  love  you  beyond  the  power  of  words  to  tell — 
I  worship  you!"  he  cried,  attempting  instinctively 
to  draw  her  into  his  arms. 

"Yes  I  know,"  she  answered,  lifting  her  hand 
in  warning,  "you  love  me  that  way — I  don't  say 
it  displeases  me — I  have  a  soul  and  I  have  a  body 
too.  There's  something  big,  fierce,  and  strong 
in  you,  Steve,  that  always  drew  me — that  draws 
me  to  you  to-night — but  I  want  to  know  if  your 
love  goes  deeper  than  the  body;  if  it's  big  enough, 
true  enough  to  dare  anything  in  this  world  or  the 
next  for  the  woman  you  love  ?" 

"Yes!"  he  cried. 

"You  love  me  better  than  money  ?" 


WEIGHED  AND  FOUND  WANTING  145 

"Yes!" 

"Better  than  power?" 

"Yes!" 

"  Better  than  your  own  Hfe  ? " 

"Yes!"  he  whispered,  crushing  her  hand 
in  his. 

"Suppose  I  should  put  you  to  a  test  and  you 
should  fail?" 

"With  your  eyes  calling  me  I'd  dare  the  terrors 
of  hell!" 

She  took  both  his  hands,  fixed  her  eyes  on  his 
until  their  warm  brown  light  enfolded  him  with 
tenderness: 

"Give  me  the  name  of  the  Chief  of  the  Ku  Klux 
Klan  in  North  CaroHna,"  she  whispered. 

Steve's  face  went  white,  and  he  stammered: 

"Why — why — my  dear — how — can — I  ?  I  don't 
know  him.     It's  impossible!" 

"Nothing  is  impossible  to  the  man  who  loves  me 
if  I  desire  it,"  she  answered,  firmly  holding  Steve 
with  her  eyes  dilated  to  extraordinary  size  under 
the  tension  of  her  deep  emotion. 

He  turned  from  her  gaze,  the  cold  sweat 
breaking  out  on  his  forehead. 

"But,  Stella,  my  dear,  I'm  not  a  member  of  the 
Klan." 

She  dropped  his  hand,  sprang  to  her  feet,  and 
looked  at  him  a  moment. 


146  THE  TRAITOR 

"You  are  lying!" 

"I  swear  I'm  telling  you  the  truth,"  he  cried, 
eagerly  attempting  to  regain  her  hand. 

She  turned  from  him  with  contempt.  She  saw 
too  late  that  she  had  overplayed  the  part.  She 
had  been  too  eager,  too  sure.  He  was  a  greater 
coward  than  she  had  suspected. 

"  But  why  should  you  ask  such  a  thing  of  me  ?" 
he  stammered. 

"You  know  why." 

"  I  haven't  the  remotest  idea. " 

"Coward!"  she  hissed,  turning  suddenly.  "You 
know  that  I  wish  to  hang  this  man  for  the  murder 
of  my  father." 

"  If  the  Government  of  the  United  States  with 
its  army  and  navy  and  its  millions  cannot  find  him 
— am  I  a  coward  because  I  tell  you  that  I  do  not 
know  his  name  ?" 

"Yes." 

"In  God's  name  why.?"  he  pleaded. 

"I  know  that  you  are  a  member  of  the 
Klan." 

"Upon  my  soul  and  honour  I  swear  that  I  am 
not!" 

"Have  you  either  soul  or  honour  ?" 

"I  won't  quarrel  with  you,  dear;  you  are  over- 
wrought and  crushed  by  this  tragedy.  You 
don't  mean  what  you  say." 


WEIGHED  AND  FOUND  WANTING  147 

"I  do  mean  it!"  she  fiercely  cried. 

"Then  you'll  live  to  regret  it,"  he  answered, 
recovering  his  composure.  "  I'll  do  anything 
within  human  reason.  You  must  not  ask  the 
impossible." 

"Then  you  will  help  me  to  find  this  man  ?" 

"To  the  limit  of  my  power." 

"Why  say  to  the  limit  of  my  power.?  I  hate 
a  man  who  fences,  squirms  and  Hes  when  face  to 
face  with  a  test  of  his  manhood!  Will  you  help 
me  find  this  man  ?     Yes  or  no  .?" 

"Yes." 

"That's  better." 

"But  tell  me,"  he  said,  watching  her  with 
increasing  reserve  and  cunning.  "Whom  do 
you  suspect  ?" 

"John  Graham." 

Steve's  eyes  flashed. 

"And  what  is  your  programme  when  you  have 
established  the  fact?" 

"The  Attorney  General  has  promised  to  hang 
him  within  thirty  days." 

"With  all  due  respect  to  the  Attorney  General 
— he  can't  do  it." 

"Why   not?" 

"We  are  living  under  conditions  of  revolution. 
No  jury  can  be  found  who  will  convict  him. 
There's  but  one  way." 


148  THE  TRAITOR 

"What  do  vou  mean  ?"  Stella  asked,  lowering 
her  voice. 

*'That  beyond  a  doubt  John  Graham  inspired 
this  crime." 

*' You  believe  it  ?"  she  broke  in  fiercely. 

"I'm  sure  of  it.  His  hatred  of  the  Judge  had 
become  a  mania.  He  used  the  Klan  as  the  cloak 
of  his  hired  assassin." 

"The  Klan  decreed  his  death,"  said  Stella 
sternly. 

"John  Graham  decreed  it." 

"What  do  you  propose?"  she  asked,  again 
coming  close  to  Steve. 

"To  have  him  executed  by  the  Klan  itself!" 

"And  yet  you  are  not  a  member.?"  she  asked 
with    a    smile. 

"I  am  in  touch  with  men  who  are." 

"How  could  his  execution  be  brought  about  .f'" 

"Ask  him  the  question  you  put  to  me." 

"And  if  he  tells?" 

"He  will  forfeit  his  Hfe." 

Stella's  eyes  rested  a  moment  on  the  chair  in 
which  her  father  fell  the  night  of  his  death.  She 
turned  and  gazed  into  Steve's  face  with  a  strange 
absent  expression  in  her  eyes  as  though  they  were 
seeing  a  picture  which  had  etched  itself  in  fire  on 
her    soul. 

"I'm     going     to      cultivate      Mr.      Graham's 


WEIGHED  AND  FOUND  WANTING  149 

acquaintance,"  she  slowly  said.  "I'll  learn  from 
his  own  lips  if  he  is  the  leader  of  the  Ku  Klux 
Klan." 

"And  if  you  find  that  he  is  ?" 

"I  may  hold  you  to  your  pledge!" 

"And  on  the  day  he  is  executed." 

"I  will  marry  you!" 


CHAPTER  III 


THE    TRAP    IS    SET 


THE  next  morning  Steve  Hoyle  left  town  and 
Stella  began  at  once  to  put  into  execution 
her  plan  to  entrap  John  Graham  in  the  meshes 
of  her  beauty  and  deliver  him  to  justice.  She 
felt  instinctively  that  if  this  man  with  his  intense 
and  romantic  nature  ever  yielded  to  the  spell  of  her 
love,  there  could  be  no  limit  to  which  he  would 
not  go  at  her  bidding.  With  equal  certainty  she 
realised  that  the  task  would  be  a  dehcate  one — a 
task  which  might  put  to  the  test  every  power  she 
possessed.  Her  whole  being  rose  to  the  work 
with  a  thrill  of  keen,  cruel  interest — the  interest 
of  the  primitive  huntress  on  track  of  the  rarest, 
wildest  and  most  daring  game. 

The  first  difficulty  which  apparently  opened  an 
impassable  gulf  between  them  was  the  suit  which 
John  Graham  had  begun  to  regain  possession  of 
the  estate.  The  language  in  which  his  complaint 
had  been  drawn  was  the  limit  of  bitter  accusation 
permitted  in  a  legal  document — parts  of  it,  indeed, 
the  Court  had  ordered  stricken  from  the  record 

as  scandalous  and  irrelevant. 

150 


THE  TRAP  IS  SET  151 

Stella's  eyes  danced  with  excitement  as  she  read 
in  the  morning's  paper  the  announcement  of  his 
withdrawal  of  this  suit.  The  news  was  accom- 
panied by  a  brief  statement  which  might  have 
been  written  as  a  personal  apology  to  her  for  the 
language  he  had  used. 

"  I  beg  leave  to  say  to  the  public  in  withdrawing  this 
action  that  I  regret  the  overheated  language  in  which  the 
original  complaint  was  expressed." 

Without  a  moment's  hesitation  she  seized  her 
pen  and  wrote  him  an  invitation  to  call.  Her 
words  revealed  the  deeply  laid  scheme  on  which 
her  mind  had  seized  in  a  flash  of  inspiration.  She 
read  and  reread  it  carefully: 

My  dear  Mr.  Graham: 

Permit  me  to  thank  you  for  the  manly  words  of 
retraction  which  you  have  used  in  this  morning's  paper. 
Your  withdrawal  of  this  suit  and  the  generous  manner  in 
which  it  was  done,  removes  the  only  barrier  to  our  friendly 
acquaintance.  I  wish  to  renew  it,  and  ask  you  to  please 
accept  at  once  the  position  of  my  personal  attorney  in  the 
settlement  of  my  father's  estate.  Your  influence  in  the 
courts  of  North  Carolina,  your  eloquence  and  genius  will 
be  of  invaluable  service  to  an  orphan  girl  who  needs  the 
advice  of  one  on  whose  integrity  she  can  absolutely  rely. 

Trusting  that  you  may  honour  me  by  answering   this. 
request  in  person  at  three  o'clock  this  afternoon, 

Sincerely, 

Stella  Butler.. 


152  THE  TRAITOR 

John  Graham  could  not  believe  his  senses  when 
he  first  read  this  letter.  The  boy  had  turned  and 
gone  without  waiting  for  an  answer  and  he  sat 
stupefied  by  a  whirl  of  conflicting  emotions. 

He  read  it  again,  bent  and  kissed  her  name.  He 
had  never  before  seen  her  handwriting.  He 
studied  it  with  curious  interest.  Its  deep  lines 
revealed  with  startling  distinctness  traits  of  a 
remarkable  character.  It  was^full  of  long  strokes 
of  the  pen  with  equal  emphasis  across,  up  and 
down.  The  letters  were  unevenly  formed,  show- 
ing the  self-willed,  imperious  spirit  that  had 
refused  to  copy  the  lines  set  by  another  hand,  and 
yet  the  effect  was  pleasing  and  held  the  eye  in 
a  continuous  surprise  at  its  sensational  curves  and 
dashes.  Through  every  line  he  felt  the  throb  of 
an  intense  nature,  which  seemed  to  sink  into 
inaudible  whispers  of  emotion  in  the  queer  little 
twists  of  the  pen  with  which  each  sentence  ended. 

He  placed  the  note  in  an  inner  pocket.  Had 
he  received  this  invitation  yesterday,  he  would 
have  locked  his  doors,  shouted  and  danced  for 
joy  at  the  opportunity  to  press  her  hand  again 
and  look  into  those  deep  brown  eyes  that  haunted 
him  w^aking  or  dreaming.  Now  it  was  a  serious 
question.  Within  twenty-four  hours  he  had 
received  confirmation  of  two  suspicions  which  had 
oppressed  him  since  the  night  of  Butler's  death — 


THE  TRAP  IS  SET  153 

that  his  father  might  have  committed  the  deed 
and  that  Billy  was  in  the  party  of  masqueraders. 

In  either  case,  the  stain  of  the  Judge's  blood 
was  on  the  house  of  Graham  and  the  Angel  of 
Death  stood  with  drawn  sword  barring  the  way  of 
his  happiness.  He  would  not  seek  the  hand  of 
Stella  with  the  blood  of  her  father  on  his  own. 
He  would  accept  the  moral  responsibility  of  his 
father's  act  or  that  of  his  younger  brother.  He 
had  reproached  himself  bitterly  that  he  had 
neglected  to  know  and  teach  his  high-strung 
younger  brother  as  he  might.  The  mother  dead, 
his  father  a  hopeless  mental  invalid,  Billy  had 
grown  up  with  no  hand  to  guide  his  wayward 
fancy.  It  was  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  he  soon 
recognised  no  authority  save  that  of  his  own  will. 

Stella's  request  had  brought  John  face  to  face 
with  the  problems  of  his  father  and  Billy.  He 
must  know  the  truth  before  he  could  answer  that 
letter.  Better  to  strangle  the  love  that  was  fast 
swelling  in  his  heart  than  wait  until  the  hour  when 
the  call  of  love  might  drown  the  voice  of  honour. 

He  left  his  office  and  went  at  once  to  his  father's 
room.  The  Major  was  dressed  with  his  habitual 
care,  his  linen  spotless,  his  boots  carefully  polished, 
his  thin  white  hair  brushed  straight  back  from  his 
high  forehead.  He  was  seated  in  his  armchair, 
gently  stroking  with  his  chalk-white  bony  hand 


154  THE  TRAITOR 

his  delicate  ghostly  beard,  while  delivering  to 
Alfred  one  of  his  interminable  talks  of  the  old  life 
in  the  South.  At  times  he  forgot  the  war  and  the 
horrors  which  followed  and  reenacted  the  scenes 
of  the  past  until  his  former  slave,  too  full  to  bear 
more,  would  stop  him  tenderly,  and  get  him  to 
change  the  subject. 

"Leave  us  awhile,  Alfred,"  John  said,  on 
entering. 

"Yassah,"  the  old  butler  answered,  bowing 
himself  out  with  stately  dignity. 

John  closed  the  door  and  drew  his  chair  close 
to  the  Major's. 

"Father,  I  want  to  ask  you  something  very 
particular,"  be  began. 

The  old  man  smiled  indulgently. 

"Well,  out  w^ith  it,  you  young  rascal!  You've 
been  flying  round  her  long  enough.  I  knew  it 
would  come  at  last.  So,i;she's  got  you,  has  she! 
Well,  well,  Jennie's  a  fine  girl,  my  boy;  I  danced 
at  her  father's  and  mother's  wedding.  I  wish 
I  had  more  to  give  you.  You'll  have  to  be  content 
with  the  lower  plantation,  and  a  dozen  slaves  to 
start  with. " 

"Listen,  father,"  John  urged,  stopping  him 
with  a  gentle  pressure  on  his  arm.  "And  try  to 
remember.     Have  you  encountered  Butler  lately  .'' " 

"Change   our   butler! — what   better   butler   do 


THE  TRAP  IS  SET  155 

you  want  than  Alfred  ?  He's  an  aristocrat  to  his 
finger  tips.  I  wouldn't  think  of  reducing  him 
from  his  present  rank;  what  has  he  done  to  offend 
any  one  ?" 

"I  mean  the  Judge  who  took  the  house — I 
mean  Judge  Butler." 

"Ah!  A  man  of  low  origin  and  no  principle, 
my  son — a  renegade  who  betrayed  his  people  for 
thirty  pieces  of  silver — silver  stained  with  blood — 
a  dirty,  contemptible  office-seeker.  I  wouldn't 
lower  myself  by  speaking  to  such  a  man. " 

"Yes,  I  know  father,"  John  broke  in,  "but  I'm 
trying  to  recall  to  your  memory  the  visits  you  have 
made  at  night  lately  to  the  old  home." 

"Of  course,  I  love  the  old  home.  I  was  born 
here.  I  brought  my  bride  here.  I'll  never  leave 
it  except  for  a  better  world." 

John  felt  a  lump  rise  in  his  throat  and  rose  to  go. 
It  was  useless.  Besides,  the  thing  was  unthinkable. 
How  could  this  feeble  old  man  spring  on  one  of 
Butler's  physique  and  stab  him  to  death.  He 
couldn't,  except  in  a  moment  of  superhuman 
frenzy  which  sometimes  comes  to  the  insane. 
There  was  the  thought  which  returned  again  and 
again  to  torment  him!  Aunt  Julie  Ann  declared 
the  ghost  was  seen  to  pass  through  the  hall  and 
go  upstairs  but  a  few  moments  before  the  tragedy. 
Yes,  it  was  possible. 


156  THE  TRAITOR 

John  peered  into  his  father's  restless  eyes  with 
a  mad  desire  to  Hft  the  mysterious  veil  that 
obscured  the  world  from  his  vision.  The  horror 
of  the  sickening  tragedy  strangled  him  and  he 
turned,  abruptly  leaving  the  room. 

He  sought  Billy  with  a  growing  sense  of  helpless 
and  bitter  despair.  Since  the  day  of  their  brief 
quarrel  which  followed  the  demonstration  before 
old  Larkin,  Billy  had  avoided  John.  Since  But- 
ler's death  they  had  scarcely  spoken.  The  effect 
of  this  tragedy  on  his  headstrong  younger  brother 
first  led  John  to  suspect  his  membership  in  the 
newly  organised  Klan  under  Steve's  leadership. 

John  found  him  in  his  room  reading. 

"  Billy,  I  must  have  a  serious  talk  with  you," 
the  older  brother  began. 

"All  right,  sit  down,"  the  boy  answered,  laying 
aside  his  book. 

"  A  youngster  of  eighteen  who  keeps  to  his  room 
for  days  at  a  time  and  reads  is  either  sick  or  has 
something  on  his  mind." 

"Which  do  you  think?"  Billy  asked,  looking 
vaguely  out  the  window. 

"I'll  answer  you  by  asking  a  question,  and  I 
want  you  to  answer  on  the  honour  of  a  Graham. 
Are  you  a  member  of  Steve  Hoyle's  Klan  .?" 

"You  have  no  right  to  ask  that  question,"  was 
the  hot  reply. 


THE  TRAP  IS  SET  157 

"Yes,  I  have,"  John  slowly  said,  "for  two 
reasons.  As  the  organiser  of  the  original  Ku 
Klux  Klan  in  this  state  I  hold  myself  in  a  measure 
responsible  for  its  existence  even  in  its  lowest 
forms.  But  that's  not  all,  my  boy,  you're  my 
brother,  and  I  love  you." 

Billy's  eyes  blinked  and  he  looked  at  the  ceiling. 
He  had  never  heard  such  an  expression  from 
John's  lips  before. 

'T  wish  I'd  slipped  my  arm  around  you  and  told 
you  that  long  ago.  I've  always  been  proud  of 
your  high-strung,  sensitive  spirit,  proud  in  my  own 
heart  that  we  were  of  the  same  blood,  and  I  want 
to  ask  you  to  forgive  me  for  seeing  so  little  of  you 
and  being  of  so  Httle  help  to  you." 

A  sob  caught  the  boy's  breath. 

"You'll  let  me  help  you  now?"  John  asked 
tenderly,  extending  his  hand. 

Billy  rose  trembling,  his  eyes  running  over  with 
tears,  took  a  step  toward  the  door,  turned  and  threw 
himself  into  John's  arms,  sobbing  bitterly. 

The  older  brother  held  him  close  for  a  moment 
in  silence,  and  slowly  said  at  last: 

"Now  tell  me." 

"I  was  at  Judge  Butler's  that  night!'* 

John  sank  to  a  chair  with  a  groan. 

"My  God!  I  knew  it!" 

"  But,  of  course,  you  know  that  I  had  nothing 


158  THE  TRAITOR 

to  do  with  any  attack  on  a  man  in  whose  house  I 
was  a  guest,"  he  went  on  rapidly.  "The  whole 
thing  is  a  horrible  mystery  to  us  all.  Every  man 
in  our  crowd  was  in  the  ballroom  dancing." 

"How  did  you  know  that?"  John  interrupted 
sharply. 

"  Because  I  counted  them  as  they  entered." 

*'Tou  counted  them?" 

"Yes." 

"Then  you  were  in  command  of  the  crowd  ?" 

Billy  hesitated  a  moment,  and  said: 

"Yes!" 

John  drew  a  deep  breath  and  turned  his  head 
away  in  anguish. 

"I  could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  lead  them. 
I  wanted  to  see  inside  the  old  house  again — you 
understand.  I  never  dreamed  of  anything 
happening." 

"None  of  the  boys  were  drinking  ?" 

"No,  and  there  wasn't  a  fool  among  them — 
they  were  all  my  chums  and  friends  in  town." 

"Then  go  at  once  and  tell  them  that  I  say 
to  put  a  thousand  miles  between  them  and  this 
town  in  the  next  forty-eight  hours — to  Texas  if 
possible." 

"Why?"  asked  Billy  with  a  touch  of  wounded 
pride. 

"There  are  a  hundred  reasons — one  is  enough. 


THE  TRAP  IS  SET  159 

There's  a  price  on  the  head  of  the  man  who 
committed  that  crime." 

"My  men  didn't  do  it!" 

"Granted.  But  one  of  these  fine  days  a  white- 
livered  traitor  may  crawl  from  your  Klan  and  claim 
his  reward  of  gold  or  office.  You  will  be  convicted 
in  ten  minutes." 

Billy  turned  pale,  and  straightened  his  boyish 
figure. 

"Well,  I'll  tell  my  men  to  go.     I'll  not  run." 

"You  can  serve  your  men  best  by  going.  The 
bravest  general  always  knows  when  to  retreat." 

"I'll  stand  my  ground." 

"You  must  go.  I  can  fight  for  you  better  with 
a  thousand  miles  between  us.  I'll  play  a  trick 
on  my  Yankee  friends  this  time.  I'm  going  to 
send  you  North  into  the  enemy's  country — to 
college." 

Billy  was  trembling  now  with  a  new  excitement. 
His  heart  was  set  on  a  college  career  and  he  hadn't 
as  yet  hoped  to  find  the  way. 

"How  will  you  do  it  ?"  he  asked  eagerly. 

"Old  Nickaroshinski  will  take  my  note.  I'll 
borrow  the  money." 

The  boy  smiled  for  the  first  time  in  a  month. 

"Oh!  John,  you've  taken  a  load  off  my  soul." 

John's  hand  crushed  the  letter  from  Stella, 
which  he  was  unconsciously  grasping  in  his  pocket. 


i6o  THE  TRAITOR 

"And  you've  piled  one  on  my  soul  under  which 
I'll  stagger  to  the  grave,"  he  cried  v^ithin,  out- 
wardly answering  with  a  smile  and  warm  grip  of 
the  hand  as  he  said: 

"  Quick  now,  boy.  Don't  lose  a  minute.  There 
will  be  some  heart-broken  mothers  in  town  to- 
morrow night.  There's  but  one  choice:  the  plains 
of  the  West,  or  a  prison  pen." 

"I'll  go  at  once,"  Billy  cried,  seizing  his  hat  and 
hastily  leaving. 

Pale  and  haggard,  John  slowly  returned  to  his 
office.  He  looked  at  his  watch.  It  was  five 
minutes  to  three.  Stella  was  waiting  to  receive 
him.  He  could  hear  the  low  sweet  tones  of  her 
voice  greeting  him,  and  see  her  great  brown  eyes 
smiling  their  welcome. 

But  his  mind  was  made  up.  Safety  lay  in  flight. 
He  wrote  a  brief  reply  to  her  letter. 

My  dear  JViiss  Butler: 

I  thank  you  for  the  honour  you  do  me  in  the  request 
you  make.  I  regret  that  I  cannot  see  my  way  clear  at 
present  to  accept  your  offer.  I  have  many  reasons,  and 
I  beg  you  to  believe  that  they  are  very  serious  ones — other- 
wise I  would  hasten  to  answer  in  person  your  call. 

With  sincere  regrets, 

John  Graham. 

Stella  received  the  note  with  mingled  surprise 
and  rage,   and  immediately  wired    the   Attorney 


THE  TRAP  IS  SET  i6i 

General  in  the  cipher  code  he  had  given  her 
asking  for  the  assistance  for  two  months  of  the  best 
detective  the  Secret  Service  could  command. 
General  Champion  repHed  within  two  hours. 
*'Mr.  Ackerman  leaves  here  to-night.  He  will 
report  to  you  in  Independence  to-morrow." 


CHAPTER  IV 

ACKERMAN  SECURES  A  PLEDGE 

ACKERMAN  sent  to  Stella  his  letter  of  intro- 
duction from  the  Attorney  General,  stating 
that  he  would  call  the  following  day  and  report 
progress. 

General  Champion's  letter  had  raised  the  highest 
hopes  by  the  declaration  that  the  young  detective 
had  developed  a  well  defined  and  intelligent 
theory  on  which  to  conduct  the  prosecution  of 
the  case. 

Stella  awaited  his  call  impatiently.  She  had 
pictured  the  ideal  detective  of  romance  and 
could  not  conceal  her  amazement  at  his  personal 
appearance  when  she  extended  her  hand  to  greet 
him. 

His  voice  was  soft  and  low  as  her  own,  his  face 
wreathed  in  smiles — and  such  a  face! — plump, 
rosy  cheeked,  young,  fresh  and  boyish,  save  for 
the  slightest  touch  of  gray  in  the  dark  hair  about 
his  temples.  His  eye  alone,  to  the  close  student  of 
men,  might  have  revealed  his  profession.  It 
looked  a  steady  blaze  of  light  from  beneath  straight 

intellectual  brows. 

162 


ACKERMAN  SECURES  A  PLEDGE    163 

"You  had  better  understand  at  once,  Miss 
Butler,"  he  began,  "that  I  am  a  prosperous 
young  business  man  from  the  North  at  present 
engaged  in  the  organisation  of  cotton  mills  in  the 
South." 

Stella  could  not  repress  a  smile,  as  she  said: 

*'  I  must  say  you  look  the  part." 

"  I  have  engaged  board  at  Mrs.  Wilson's 
and  asked  Mr.  John  Graham  to  act  as  my  attor- 
ney in  the  organisation  of  a  company  in  this 
county. " 

"I  see,"  she  cried,  for  the  first  time  catching 
the  steady  light  of  Ackerman's  eye. 

"I  cannot  be  seen  in  conference  with  you.  We 
will  report  to  each  other  by  letter.  But  we 
must  clearly  understand  each  other.  Am  I 
right  that  you  mean  to  press  this  case  to  the 
bitter  end,  let  the  blow  fall  on  whom  it 
may  : 

"Certainly,"  was  the  firm  answer. 

"  I  learn  from  the  Attorney  General's  office 
that  you  are  on  the  track  of  the  man  who  is 
Commander-in-chief  of  the  Klan  in  this  state?" 

"Yes." 

"Pardon  another  question.  I  must  know  if 
you  are  in  dead  earnest  ?  I  have  found  that  women 
have  little  tenacity  of  purpose  in  such  cases  and  as 
a  rule  cannot  be  depended  on." 


i64  THE  TRAITOR 

"I'll  show  you  that   they   are    not   all   alike!'* 
Stella  broke  in  angrily. 

"Then  may  I  ask  that  if  you  succeed  in  securing 
this  name  that  you  will  place  it  in  my  hands  with- 
out a  moment's  delay?" 
At  once. 


CHAPTER  V 

IN   THE    TOILS 

STELLA  determined  to  make  one  more 
direct  appeal  to  John  Graham  before 
resorting  to  indirect  subterfuges  for  the  purpose 
of   meeting    him. 

She  wrote  half  a  dozen  letters  and  tore  them 
up.  They  lacked  simplicity.  The  only  effective 
appeal  to  this  man  must  disarm  all  suspicion  of 
subtlety.  It  must  be  natural,  sincere  and  ring 
true.  She  found  it  a  very  difficult  thing  to  express 
in  cold  written  words  one  thing  and  mean  another, 
and  yet  preserve  the  ring  of  truth  and  sincerity. 
At  last  she  wrote  a  letter  which  seemed  to  be 
effective.  She  read  it  over  and  over,  and  added 
to  the  paper  the  faintest  touch  of  delicate  perfume, 
an  old  extract  of  sweet  pinks,  which  she  had  used 
the  night  of  their  meeting.  She  laid  it  aside  and 
waited  an  hour  to  carefully  read  it  again.  It 
was  too  important  to  risk  a  failure.  Should  he 
once  suspect  an  ulterior  purpose  of  any  kind 
her  plan  must  end  in  utter  defeat.  She  spent  an 
hour    walking    through    the    lawn,    returned    and 

read  again  the  letter. 

165 


i66  THE  TRAITOR 

It  seemed  cold,  stiff  and  artificial,  and  the 
touch  of  perfume  obvious  and  vulgar.  It  lacked 
the  magnetism  of  personality.  She  had  no  power 
to  convey  this  as  yet  in  words.  She  must  see  him 
face  to  face,  hold  him  with  the  deep  charm  of  her 
great  eyes,  and  enfold  him  with  the  spell  of  her 
beauty. 

"I  must  see  him,"  she  cried — "or  I'll  fail!  If 
I  can  only  touch  his  hand,  stand  by  his  side  and 
look  into  his  face,  I'll  win." 

She  walked  to  the  window  and  stood  thoughtful 
a  moment.     Suddenly  her  eyes  lighted. 

"I'll  do  it!  I'll  go  to  his  dingy  office  and  ask 
for  his  services  as  any  other  client.  Why  not  ? 
His  sign  is  a  standing  invitation  to  the  world. 
How  stupid  of  me  to  be  wasting  paper!" 

In  five  minutes  she  was  on  the  way.  Her  dress 
was  a  simple  girlish  pattern  of  green  dimity.  A 
quaint  bonnet  of  the  period,  flaring  wide  and  high 
in  front,  its  tiny  circular  crown  tilted,  with  ribbon 
tied  under  her  dainty  chin,  made  a  picture  no 
artist  could  pass  without  a  sigh. 

She  stopped  before  the  wrought-iron  weather- 
beaten  sign  which  hung  from  the  doorway  leading 
up  a  flight  of  stairs  to  the  young  lawyer's  office. 
Her  heart  fluttered  with  a  moment  of  uncertainty 
as  she  felt  herself  standing  on  the  threshold 
of  the  most  daring  step  of  her    Hfe.     The  plain 


IN  THE  TOILS  167 

gold  letters  of  the  sign  held  her  with  a  strange 
fascination: 

JOHN    GRAHAM 
ATTORNEY   AND    COUNSELLOR 

AT    LAW 

She  had  never  noticed  this  piece  of  plain  black 
iron  before,  and  yet  somehow  it  seemed  a  part  of 
the  record  of  her  deep  inner  life,  and,  as  it  moved, 
gently  stirred  by  the  soft  breezes  of  a  Southern 
day,  creaking  on  the  rod  from  which  it  hung,  the 
sound  thrilled  her  with  a  feeHng  of  strange  terror. 
She  turned  quickly  away,  her  heart  pounding 
with  excitement,  and  began  to  retrace  her  steps. 

She  walked  a  block,  stopped,  flushed  red, 
frowned  and  turned  on  her  heels. 

"I'll  not  be  a  silly  coward.  I'll  not  look  back 
again  until  it's  done." 

This  time  she  walked  firmly  up  the  stairs  and 
gently  knocked  on  his  door. 

John  had  just  finished  his  business  with  Nicka- 
roshinski.  The  old  Jew  had  accepted  his  per- 
sonal note  unsecured  by  any  endorsement  for  the 
money  needed  to  send  Billy  north  to  college.  He 
sat  in  brooding  silence,  idly  holding  between  his 
fingers  the  paper  on  which  he  had  recorded  the 
memorandum  of  his  new  indebtedness.  He  was 
not  worrying  over  his  ability  to  pay — of  that  he 
felt    sure.       Butler    had    answered    his    suit    by 


i68  THE  TRAITOR 

removing  the  order  of  his  disbarment  on  Larkin's 
advice  the  day  of  the  County  Convention.  His 
practice  gave  promise  of  a  comfortable  Hving. 

It  w^as  Billy's  flight,  which  was  arranged  for  the 
following  day,  that  had  focussed  his  thoughts  on 
the  miserable  tragedy  which  had  raised  still 
another  barrier  between  him  and  his  possible 
approach  to  Stella. 

The  knock  on  his  door  had  not  interrupted 
the  train  of  his  thought.  He  was  looking  through 
his  window  into  the  deep  blue  of  the  infinite  skies, 
and  linking  in  fancy  the  mysteries  of  their  chang- 
ing lights  to  those  which  flashed  from  the  fathom- 
less depths  of  the  eyes  of  the  woman  he  loved. 

He  had  mechanically  answered  the  knock  with- 
out moving  and  still  sat  wide-eyed  and  dreaming 
when  the  rustle  of  Stella's  dress  and  the  echo  of 
her  soft  footfall  startled  him. 

He  turned  in  amazement,  stared,  suddenly 
sprang  to  his  feet,  his  face  flushed  with  excitement. 
Surely  he  was  asleep — dreaming!  Or  had  the 
picture  in  his  soul  suddenly  stepped  from  the 
infinite  into  the  flesh  and  blood  of  the  finite  in 
answer  to  the  yearning  call  of  his  heart!  A 
hundred  wild  thoughts  swept  his  imagination  in 
the  brief  moment  before  he  could  speak. 

"I  fear  I've  startled  you!"  she  said,  drawing 
back  with  a  timid  gesture. 


IN  THE  TOILS  169 

"Why,  why — it's  you — Miss  Butler!  I  hadn't 
dreamed  of  seeing  you  in  this  dingy  office!" 

He  stammered  and  hesitated,  and  continued  to 
gaze  at  her  in  confusion. 

"May  I  sit  down  ?"  she  asked  softly. 

"I  beg  a  thousand  pardons,"  he  answered, 
springing  across  the  room  for  a  chair.  He  dumped 
a  pile  of  law  books  from  it — brushed  the  dust  from 
the  bottom  and  placed  it  before  her. 

"  Believe  me,"  he  went  on,  "I  was  so  astonished 
at  seeing  you,  I  thought  I  must  have  fallen  asleep 
— you  see  it  was  too  beautiful  to  be  true — I  thought 
it  must  be  a  dream." 

"Well,  there  was  nothing  left  but  to  humble 
myself  and  call  on  you — you  refused  to  call 
on  me." 

"  I  can  never  tell  you  how  sorry  I  was  to  have 
to  write  that  note,"  he  said  gravely. 

"  I'm  glad,  for  I  refuse  to  take  your  letter  as 
final.  You  said  there  were  many  and  serious 
reasons  why  you  could  not  act  as  my  counsel. 
I've  come  to  hear  them." 

"  I  assure  you  they  are  serious  enough,  Miss 
Butler.  I  fear  it  will  not  be  possible  for  me  to 
state  them." 

"Then  I  refuse  to  accept  them,"  she  answered 
with  a  smile. 

John  gazed  at  her,  wondering  if  she  could  know 


170  THE  TRAITOR 

what  havoc  her  sweet  appeahng  smile  was  playing 
with  his  resolutions. 

He  tried  to  speak  and  couldn't. 

Stella  continued,  her  voice  low  and  musical 
with  childlike  tenderness: 

"  I  know  that  my  father  was  your  political  foe, 
but  he  had  the  profoundest  respect  for  your  abil- 
ity and  your  high  sense  of  honour.  His  death 
will  doubtless  remain  one  of  the  unexplained 
tragedies  of  the  troubles  through  which  the  coun- 
try is  now  passing." 

She  rose  and  slowly  approached  John's  chair, 
her  great  brown  eyes  blinding  him  with  their 
Hght  as  she  gently  laid  a  white  hand  on  his 
shoulder. 

He  started  at  her  touch. 

*'Mr.  Graham,"  she  said,  with  exquisite  ten- 
derness, "life  is  too  short  to  cherish  its  bitter 
feuds." 

"Yes,"  he  answered  in  a  whisper  barely 
audible. 

"I  am  utterly  alone  and  distressed  over  busi- 
ness affairs  I  do  not  understand.  I  have  implicit 
faith  in  you.  I  need  your  help  and  advice.  Will 
you  refuse  me  what  you  would  grant  without 
question  to  a  stranger  who  would  call  at  this 
office  and  ask  ?" 

John  flushed  and  fumbled  his  hands  nervously. 


IN  THE  TOILS  171 

"Come,  you  will  accept,  will  you  not?"  She 
extended  her  hand.     "Shall  we  be  friends?" 

He  trembled  for  a  moment  and  his  own  hand 
resistlessly  sought  hers. 

"Yes!"  he  cried  with  deep  emotion,  uncon- 
sciously crushing  her  hand  in  his. 

"You  will  come  to-morrow  morning  to  the 
house  and  go  over  the  papers  with  me  ?" 

"To-morrow  afternoon,"  he  replied,  as  a 
momentary  cloud  shadowed  his  brow.  "I  have 
an  important  engagement  for  the  morning."  And 
he  thought  of  Billy  with  a  pang. 

"Then  to-morrow  afternoon,"  she  cried,  with 
a  tender  smile  that  lingered  as  a  caress  long  after 
she  had  passed  from  the  door. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE    TRAIN   FOR   THE    NORTH 

ONE  by  one  the  boys  engaged  in  the  mas- 
querade at  the  Judge's  the  night  of  his 
death  sHpped  out  of  Independence  from  various 
nearby  stations  and  left  for  the  West.  An  hour 
before  the  time  for  Billy's  train  going  North  John 
went  to  his  room  for  a  chat  before  saying  good-bye. 

Billy  had  begun  to  unpack  his  trunk. 

John  seized  his  arm. 

"What's  this — what's  the  matter?" 

"I'm  not  going!"  he  snapped. 

"Why    not.?" 

"I've  found  out  that  you  may  be  put  on  trial 
for  your  life." 

"Well,     what's     that    got     to     do    with    your 
education  ?" 

"You're  just  packing  me  off  to  get  me  out  of 
danger." 

"Suppose  I  am  ?" 

"I'm  not  going  to  sneak  out  of  trouble  and  leave 
you  to  stand  for  what  I've  done." 

"I'm  responsible,  my  boy." 

"You're  not.     You  tried  to  keep  me  out  of  it. 


THE  TRAIN  FOR  THE  NORTH     173 

I  got  Steve  Hoyle  to  take  me  in.  I  knew  what  I 
was  doing.     I  was  a  headstrong  fool." 

"  Because  you've  been  a  fool  is  no  reason  why 
you  should  keep  it  up.  Don't  talk  any  more 
nonsense.  Hurry — put  your  clothes  back  in  that 
trunk — you  must  catch  this  train." 

"No!"  was   the   dogged   answer. 

John  put  his  hand  on  the  boy's  shoulder. 

"You  must  do  it  for  me,  Billy.  I'm  trying  to 
make  good  my  failure.  I  ought  to  have  been  both 
father  and  mother  to  you.  I  was  neither — I 
didn't  know  how — forgive  me!  I  let  you  slip  away. 
It  seems  to  me  now  it  would  have  been  very  easy 
for  me  to  have  taken  you  by  the  hand,  and  with  a 
jolly  word  or  two  and  a  little  pains  and  a  little 
friendly  comradeship,  I  could  have  kept  you  out  of 
trouble.  I'm  heartsick  over  it,  boy.  You  must 
let  me  atone  in  this  way.  You  can  do  no  good  by 
staying.  You'll  be  in  the  way  when  trouble  comes. 
You'll  promise  me  now,  because  I  ask  you — won't 
you  : 

The  boy  choked  back  a  sob. 

"I'll  go  on  one  condition " 

"Well?" 

"If  you  get  in  trouble  about  this  thing,  that 
you'll  let  me  know." 

John  grasped  his  hand: 

"I  promise  you." 


174  THE  TRAITOR 

Mrs.  Wilson  and  Susie  accompanied  them  to  the 
station.  As  the  train  signalled  to  pull  out  Billy 
shook  hands  with  Susie  awkwardly  and  tried  to 
take  leave  of  her  mother  in  the  same  way,  but  Mrs. 
Wilson  broke  down,  threw  her  arms  around  his 
neck  and  sobbed: 

"Billy,  darling,  you're  my  own  sweet  boy — I 
love  you — I  love  you!  You'll  write  to  me  every 
week — won't  you?" 

Billy  promised,  disengaging  himself  in  evident 
embarrassment  and  trying  to  hide  his  tears. 

Moved  by  a  sudden  impulse  Susie  smiled,  drew 
Billy's  head  down  and  kissed  him. 

*'For  the  high  honour  you  once  paid  me.  I 
shall  expect  great  things  of  you,  Billy." 

As  the  train  started,  he   gripped   John's    hand: 

"Remember,  we  stand  together.  We  are 
Grahams — I'll  hold  you  to  your  promise!" 

John  saw  Ackerman  join  Susie  and  caught  the 
sudden  flash  of  his  keen  eye. 

He  touched  his  lip  in  sign  of  warning  to  Billy  and 
waved  his  hand. 

"I'll  remember!  Good  luck!" 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE    DAUGHTER    OF    EVE 

STELLA    had    piled    on   the   big  oblong  oak 
table   in   the  library  the    letters    and    legal 
documents  relating  to  her  father's  estate. 

She  had  determined  to  treat  John  Graham's 
first  visit  as  a  purely  business  one,  and  make 
her  approach  to  him  by  the  more  subtle  way  of 
child-like  dependence  on  his  help  and  advice. 

She  wore  on  purpose  the  same  simple  green 
dimity  dress  in  which  she  had  called  at  his 
office.  Each  step  in  her  plans  must  be  taken 
with  the  utmost  care.  He  had  masked  his  feel- 
ings with  an  iron  will  and  she  could  as  yet 
form  no  conception  of  the  impression  she  had 
made. 

Seated  beside  the  table,  idly  turning  the  papers, 
she  avv^aited  his  coming  to-night  with  the  keenest 
interest,  every  faculty  of  her  being  keyed  to  the 
highest  pitch  of  power. 

A  letter  from  Ackerman  had  aroused  anew  her 
curiosity  over  every  detail  of  the  murder  of  her 
father  and  had  given  her  a  definite  purpose 
toward  which  to  work  during  John's  visit.      She 

175 


176  THE  TRAITOR 

studied  carefully  again    the   paragraph   in   which 
he  said: 

"I  have  made  several  important  discoveries  in  the  past 
twenty-four  hours,  (i)  That  old  Isaac  has  left  the  county 
and  is  not  holding  a  sanctification  meeting  as  he  told  his 
wife.  (2)  That  Larkin  and  your  father  had  a  violent 
quarrel  on  the  day  of  the  Convention.  (3)  That  a  dozen 
young  men,  one  at  a  time,  have  left  Independence  recently. 
(4)  And  most  important,  that  the  tradition  that  there  is 
a  secret  passage  somewhere  into  the  Graham  house  must 
be  true.  If  you  can  confirm  this  fourth  fact  for  me  by  its 
discovery  my  work  will  be  greatly  helped." 

Stella  had  quietly  ransacked  the  house  from 
cellar  to  attic  in  vain  searching  for  this  secret  wzy. 
She  had  questioned  Aunt  Julie  Ann  without  results, 
and  had  made  up  her  mind  to  gain  from  John  first 
this  important  fact. 

The  brass  knocker  struck  three  sharp  strokes  on 
the  front  door.  With  a  quick,  cat-hke  movement 
she  concealed  Ackerman's  letter  in  her  bosom, 
smoothed  her  dress,  and  as  the  young  lawyer 
entered,  rose  and  greeted  him  with  a  gracious  smile. 

"I  must  thank  you  again  for  undertaking  this 
work  for  me,"  she  said,  taking  his  hand.  "It 
is  such  a  relief  to  feel  that  it  is  now  in  the  hands 
of  one  who  understands — one  I  can  trust 
implicitly." 

"It  will  be  a  pleasure  if  I  can  serve  you,"  he 
answ^ered  gravely. 


THE  DAUGHTER  OF  EVE  177 

"I  have  the  papers  all  spread  out  here  ready 
for  you." 

"Pardon  me,  if  I  look  about  the  room  a 
moment,"  John  said  with  deep  emotion.  "You 
see  I  haven't  been  in  this  room  before  for  years.  I 
spent  many  happy  hours  in  it,  in  the  old  days." 

"  I  hope  this  v^ill  not  be  the  last  time  you  will 
enter,  now  that  we  are  going  to  be  friends.  When 
we  have  time  you  must  take  me  all  through  in 
every  nook  and  corner — show  me  all  the  secret 
closets  and  dark  passageways  and  tell  me  its 
history." 

"Yes,  of  course" — he  answered  with  an  absent 
look. 

"I  don't  beheve  you  were  listening  to  what  I 
said  at  all,"  she  exclaimed  with  mock  anger.  "A 
penny  for  your  real  thoughts!" 

"May  I  be  bold  enough  to  tell  you  just  what 
I  was  thinking  ?" 

"Yes." 

"I  was  thinking,"  he  said  with  a  sober  smile, 
"what  a  beautiful  picture  you  make  in  this  old 
oak  panelled  room.  The  delicate  lines  of  your 
face  seem  at  home  here  as  though  the  master  work- 
man who  carved  the  figure  in  that  mantel  had 
seen  you  in  a  vision  while  he  was  at  work." 

"What  a  dreamer  you  are!"  she  laughed. 

"And  you  are  wiUing  to  trust  me  as  a  lawyer  ?" 


178  THE  TRAITOR 

''Absolutely." 

"Then  I  must  prove  myself  worthy,  mustn't  I  ?" 

"The  papers  are  ready" — she  said,  bustling 
about  the  table  and  mixing  the  bundles  in  greater 
confusion  with  an  attempt  at  arranging  them  in 
business  order. 

John  seated  himself  and  began  to  examine  them. 
She  bent  over  his  shoulder  saying  with  a  light 
laugh: 

"I'll  do  my  best  to  explain  them — they  are  all 
Greek  to  me — but  you'll  understand." 

"I'm  sure  there  will  be  no  great  difficulty." 

He  ran  rapidly  over  the  bundles  and  in  half  an 
hour  had  made  memorandums  of  each  division  of 
the  work  before  him.  He  took  up  one  of  the 
packages  and  began  its  careful  reading,  but  the 
writing  faded.  He  could  hear  Stella  softly  breath- 
ing as  she  bent  near  him  and  see  the  beautiful 
little  hand  resting  on  the  table.  He  was  seized 
with  a  mad  impulse  to  grasp  it  and  clasp  her  in 
his  arms.  He  smiled  and  placed  his  hand  on  his 
forehead  a  moment  lest  she  might  see  his  con- 
fusion. He  could  endure  it  no  longer.  He  must 
leave  and  regain  control  of  himself. 

He  tied  the  packages  of  papers  together  and  rose. 

"You  are  going  so  soon  ?"  she  asked. 

"Yes,  I'll  take  them  down  to  my  office.  It  will 
require  several  hours  to  go  over  them." 


THE  DAUGHTER  OF  EVE  179 

"You  will  come  again  to-morrow?"  she  said 
softly. 

"I'll  report  to  you  again  to-morrow  evening." 

"  I  shall  expect  you  at  eight,"  she  said,  extending 
her  hand. 

He  held  it  unconsciously  for  an  instant,  and 
wondered  if  she  could  feel  the  pounding  of  his 
heart. 

He  came  each  evening  for  a  week  and  spent  two 
hours  in  the  library  with  Stella  until  every  letter 
and  paper  had  been  thoroughly  examined.  In  a 
hundred  little  ways  she  had  made  him  feel  the 
power  and  charm  of  her  personality;  in  no  way 
so  keenly,  perhaps,  as  in  the  long  silences  during 
which  she  sat  near  with  her  great  brown  eyes 
watching  him  intently.  He  could  feel  their  deep 
mysterious  light  in  whatever  direction  he  turned. 
In  no  other  way  could  she  have  made  so  powerful 
an  appeal  to  his  imagination.  To  his  poetic  fancy, 
this  capacity  for  silent  comradeship  in  a  girl  so 
young  revealed  a  depth  of  character  which  he  had 
not  suspected. 

The  real  depth  of  its  meaning  he  could  not 
dream.  The  moments  of  exultant  triumph,  of 
breathless  suspense,  of  merciless  cruelty  with 
which  she  watched  him  slowly  entering  the  trap 
she  had  set,  were  safely  concealed  beneath  the 
childlike  expression  of  her  beautiful  face. 


i8o  THE  TRAITOR 

Each  night  he  felt  his  resolution  to  allow  no 
word  of  love  to  pass  his  lips  harder  and  harder  to 
keep.  And  each  night  she  watched  with  increas- 
ing excitement  his  gradual  approach  to  the  brink 
of  the  precipice  to  which  she  silently  beckoned. 

On  the  night  of  his  final  report  when  the  work 
was  finished,  she  looked  at  him  intently  and  said: 
"Now,  I'm  going  to  hold  you  to  your  promise.'* 
"And  have  I   broken  one.?" 
"Only  forgotten  it,  I  think — you  must  go  over 
the  old  house  with  me — every  nook  and  corner. 
But  before  we  start,  come,  you  are  tired,  I've  some 
refreshments  for  you." 

She  led  the  way  into  the  dining  room  where  she 
had  prepared  a  dainty  supper.  Aunt  Julie  Ann 
in  spotless  white  cap  and  apron,  stood  smiling  her 
welcome.  The  table  was  lighted  with  a  dozen 
wax  candles  set  in  two  old  silver  candelabra  which 
had  belonged  to  the  Graham  family  more  than  a 
hundred  years,  until  they  had  fallen  with  the  house 
and  its  furnishings  into  the  Judge's  hands. 

Stella  seated  herself  at  one  end  of  the  table  which 
had  been  shortened  to  its  smallest  size  and  placed 
John  at  the  other.  Her  position,  the  lights  and 
the  effects  of  the  picture  in  his  imagination,  she 
had  carefully  planned  and  rehearsed  before  his 
arrival.     She  meant  to  win  to-night. 

Behind  her  stood  the  rich  old  mahogany  side- 


THE  DAUGHTER  OF  EVE  i8i 

board  of  Colonial  pattern,  the  Graham  silver 
flashing  in  the  quaint  gold  mirror  which  hung 
above  it.  In  the  mirror  her  ow^n  image  v^as 
clearly  reflected.  The  man  opposite  could 
look  into  her  face  and  at  the  same  time  see  in  the 
shining  silvery  picture  above  the  sideboard  the 
black  ringlets  of  curling  hair  at  the  back  of  her 
neck,  as  v^ell  as  the  exquisite  lines  of  her  figure. 

John  gazed  at  her  in  silent  w^onder.  Never  had 
he  seen  a  picture  so  appealing  in  its  beauty  to  every 
sense  of  his  being.  He  felt  that  she  v^as  born  to 
sit  at  that  table  amid  such  surroundings. 

She  lifted  the  teapot  to  fill  his  cup : 

"This  little  feast  is  to  celebrate  the  completion 
of  our  work." 

"And  seal  our  friendship,  may  I  hope?" 
he  broke  in  with  a  smile. 

"Yes,"  she  answered  in  a  whisper. 

These  soft  notes  of  her  voice  thrilled  the  man 
before  her,  and  his  whole  being  quivered  in 
response  to  their  call.  He  wondered  if  he  could 
conceal  the  hunger  with  which  he  was  looking  into 
her  eyes. 

He  had  always  thought  her  the  most  beautiful 
being  he  had  ever  seen,  but  to-night  for  the  first 
time  she  had  dressed  specially  to  receive  him,  and 
his  imagination  had  not  dreamed  the  picture — 
Her  beauty  fairly  stunned  him. 


i82  THE  TRAITOR 

Her  dress  was  of  filmy  zephyr-like  white  chiffon, 
cut  low  to  show  the  full  lines  of  the  neck  and 
shoulders.  Around  the  upper  part  of  her  beauti- 
ful bare  arms,  where  they  melted  into  the  shoulders, 
was  drawn  a  scarf  of  delicate  lace.  Where  it 
crossed  the  waist  line  in  V  shape,  was  pinned  an 
ivorytype  miniature  portrait  of  her  proud  mother, 
painted  at  her  own  age  of  twenty,  which  looked 
so  strikingly  like  the  living  form  above,  it  might 
have  been  taken  for  the  image  of  a  twin  sister.  A 
sash  of  pink  ribbon  encircled  her  figure.  The 
skirt  hung  in  full  puffy  lines  draped  over  a  number 
of  under-skirts  after  the  fashion  of  the  period.  The 
bottom  of  the  skirt  was  finished  with  a  border  ot 
lace  on  the  top  of  which  were  set  at  intervals 
clusters  of  little  pink  roses  wrought  in  silk. 

Her  curly  crown  of  black  hair  was  parted  in 
the  middle  and  drawn  low  on  the  side  of  the  face 
in  two  great  waves  and  tied  behind  with  a  pink 
ribbon.  The  long  ends  were  curled  into  four 
strands  and  thrown  carelessly  around  her  neck 
in  front  and  hung  to  the  waist.  Her  head  was 
circled  with  a  tiny  wreath  of  the  living  pink  roses 
from  which  the  silk  ones  had  been  modelled.  To 
John's  fancy  this  wreath  against  her  black  hair 
seemed  the  jewelled  crown  of  a  queen  set  in 
priceless   rubies. 

She  poured  the  tea  with  her  bare  arm  uphfted 


THE  DAUGHTER  OF  EVE  183 

in  a  fascinating  pose,  the  right  arm  curved  just 
enough  to  tilt  the  teapot  and  yet  preserve  the  dimple 
at  her  elbow.  In  all  his  life  he  could  not  remem- 
ber an  arm  like  these — so  graceful,  so  seductive 
each  little  movement,  they  seemed  to  possess  a 
conscious  soul  of  their  own.  Her  whole  bemg 
spoke  the  charm  of  the  boundless  vitality  of  youth 
just  budding  into  perfect  womanhood.  Her  deli- 
cate skin  flashed  its  tints  in  harmony  with  every 
mood  of  thought  in  her  voice.  She  had  as  a 
divine  gift  a  sensitiveness  of  expression,  so  acute 
that  it  could  be  controlled  by  the  fierce  will  which 
hid  beneath  the  velvet  surface.  She  could  blush 
at  will  because  her  imagination  was  so  vivid  that 
she  could  direct  its  powers  by  a  subtle  process  of 
auto-suggestion. 

John  had  not  realised  until  he  saw  her  eat  how 
wonderful  were  the  lines  of  her  luscious  lips.  He 
felt  that  he  could  sit  there  forever  and  watch  her 
dainty  wrist  and  tapering  fingers  lift  the  cup. 
Her  eyes  were  friendly  to-night!  They  looked  at 
him  with  dreamy  tenderness,  a  childlike  trust,  and 
perfect  faith. 

How  could  he  live  through  the  evening  without 
telling  her  of  his  love!  Yet  he  must  keep  silent. 
He  felt  with  deep  foreboding  an  approaching 
catastrophe  which  must  soon  overwhelm  the  men 
who  had   created   an   Empire  whose  power  they 


i84  THE  TRAITOR 

could  not  control.  That  Empire  had  left  a 
stain  of  blood  on  the  floor  of  this  house — a  stain 
that  must  forever  darken  his  own  life  and  hers — 
and  yet — how  could  he  give  her  up  ? 

He  rose  from  the  table  at  her  suggestion  and 
followed  her  in  a  spell  as  she  lifted  a  silver  candle- 
stick above  her  head  and  started  to  explore  the 
house. 

He  found  his  tongue  at  last  and  told  her  with 
boyish  enthusiasm  the  legends  of  the  old  mansion, 
the  associations  of  each  room,  and  sketched  with 
good-humoured  criticism  the  peculiarities  of  his 
people.  In  the  gallery  of  the  observatory  he 
showed  her  the  spots  from  which  the  slightest 
sounds  were  echoed  to  the  hall  below,  and 
explained  the  origin  of  many  of  the  ghost  stories 
which  the  Negroes  believed  with  such  implicit  faith. 

Stella  leaned  over  the  railing  and  looked  down 
into  the  hall  at  the  chair  in  which  her  father  had 
fallen  the  night  of  the  dance,  and  a  curious  smile 
played  about  her  Hps. 

"And  what  are  you  smihng  at  ?"  he  asked  softly. 

Without  the  quiver  of  an  eyelid,  either  in  sur- 
prise or  recognition  of  the  fact  that  he  had  caught 
her  in  a  moment  off  her  guard,  she  repHed: 

"I  was  just  wondering  if  you  ever  believed  in 
ghosts  ?" 

"Of  course,"  he  laughed. 


THE  DAUGHTER  OF  EVE  185 

"Really?" 

"Yes.  When  Aunt  Julie  Ann  used  to  tell  them 
to  me  at  night  in  the  nursery  they  were  vivid  and 
terrible  realities." 

"And  you've  laughed  away  all  the  romances  of 
childhood  now?" 

"  No,"  he  answered  firmly.  "  I  halfway  beheve 
in  ghosts  still,  and  the  old  dreams  of  beauty  and 
love,  of  honour  and  truth,  seem  to  me  more  and 
more  the  only  things  in  human  Hfe  that  have  any 
value. 

They  had  returned  to  the  hall.  Stella  placed 
the  candle  on  the  table  and  sat  down  on  the  daven- 
port. John  followed  her  instinctively  and  seated 
himself  by  her  side. 

Suddenly  she  placed  her  soft  hand  on  his, 
exclaiming: 

"Oh!  There's  one  thing  we've  forgotten!" 
She  felt  him  tremble  at  her  touch. 

"What?" 

"The  legend  of  the  secret  way — tell  me  about 
it — how  it  originated  and  all — of  course,  I  know  it 
is  only  a  legend.  Such  things  are  only  found  in 
stories." 

John  looked  at  her,  with  a  smile  playing  about 
the  corners  of  his  mouth. 

"You  have  ceased  to  believe  in  romance,  ghosts 
and  fairies  ?" 


1 86  THE  TRAITOR 

"I'll  believe  it  if  you  tell  me,"  she  said  softly. 

John  took  her  hand  and  Hfted  her  from  the 
lounge. 

"Have  you  faith  enough  to  follow  me  through 
the  dark  secret  way  to-night  if  I  can  find  it  for 
you  : 

"Yes!"  she  whispered,  leaning  toward  him 
trustingly. 

"Then  I'm  going  to  do  what  was  never  done 
before — show  this  secret  way  to  one  who  does  not 
answer  to  the  name  of  Graham." 

Stella's  bosom  rose  and  fell  with  deep  emotion 
as  she  turned  her  brown  eyes  on  John. 

"But  why  not?"  he  continued.  "The  house 
is  yours.  And  I'm  haunted  with  the  strange  fancy 
that  your  spirit  has  lived  here  before." 

"  I  have  grown  to  love  it,"  she  said  hesitatingly, 
^'in  spite  of  the  tragedy.  It's  strange.  I  wonder 
at  myself  for  it." 

John  turned  toward  the  panel  in  the  wainscoting 
whose  location  he  knew  so  well,  paused  and  said : 

"I'd  better  wait  and  let  you  change  your  dress. 
You'll  soil  it  against  the  damp  narrow  walls." 

Stella's  eyes  were  sparkling  now  with  excitement. 

"No  matter.  I  can't  wait  a  minute.  The 
mystery  and  romance  will  be  worth  a  dress.  Show 
me  the  way.     I'll  follow." 

"All    right,"    John   answered,    as    he   extended 


THE  DAUGHTER  OF  EVE  187 

his  hand  and  pressed  the  moulding  behind  which 
lay  the  spring.  The  panel  flew  open  and  a  rush 
of  cool  air  took  Stella's  breath. 

"Heavens!"  she  exclaimed,  chnging  suddenly 
to  John's  arm,  "why,  I  had  no  idea  it  could  open 
here  just  behind  us  in  the  hall!" 

He  could  feel  her  tremble. 

"There's  not  the  slightest  danger — you  need  not 
be  afraid,"  he  said,  tenderly.  "Wait,  I'll  get 
the  candle  and  go  before  you." 

He  took  the  candle  from  the  centre  table  and 
entered  the  passage-way,  closing  the  panel. 

"Wait,  you  must  hold  my  hand,"  Stella  cried 
timidly. 

He  took  the  soft  little  hand  in  his  with  a  throb 
of  joy  and  carefully  led  her  down  the  tiny  stairs 
into  the  basement,  where  the  passage  turned 
between  two  walls  and  again  descended  a  half 
dozen  steps  to  another  door  which  led  out  of  the 
house  into  the  long  straight  way  to  the  vault. 

Trembhng  with  excitement,  she  clung  in  silence 
to  his  hand  as  they  entered  the  long  damp  passage. 
He  closed  the  door  suddenly,  the  sound  crashing 
through  the  narrow  walls  in  a  thousand  startling 
echoes. 

Stella  sprang  into  his  arms,  nestling  close  and 
whispered: 

"Mercy!  what  was  that?" 


i88  THE  TRAITOR 

**Only  the  door,"  he  laughed. 

**It  scared  me  nearly  to  death,"  she  faltered, 
slowly  withdrawing  from  his  sheltering  protection 
while  she  skilfully  managed  to  press  her  soft  bare 
arm  against  his  hand.  She  felt  him  tremble,  his 
breath  deepen  and  quicken  at  the  touch  of  her  flesh. 

"You're  sure  there's  no  danger  .J'"  she  asked. 

"Not  the  slightest,"  he  replied  cheerily.  "Just 
one  more  little  surprise  and  we  are  out  in  the  moon- 
light on  the  lawn." 

He  led  her  clinging  to  his  hand  along  the  dark 
way,  holding  the  flickering  candle  above  her  head, 
a  hundred  mad  impulses  of  love  surging  through 
his  brain. 

They  stopped  at  the  stoneset  door  leading  into 
the  tomb,  and  he  handed  her  the  candle,  gently 
disengaging  his  other  hand.  He  drew  the  heavy 
door  back,  Stella  stepped  through  and  he  followed 
close  behind   her. 

She  raised  the  candle  high  and  looked  about 
the  vault.  With  a  sudden  cry,  she  staggered  into 
his  arms  gasping: 

Why, — we'  re — i  n — the — va  ul  t ! " 

The  candle  dropped  from  her  hand  and  she 
threw  her  arm  around  John's  neck  cHnging  to  him 
frantically.  Her  hold  relaxed  and  her  head 
drooped  against  his  breast.  He  clasped  her 
tenderly  for  a  moment  and  his  lips  instinctively 


THE  DAUGHTER  OF  EVE  189 

touched  the  curhng  mass  of  her  hair,  as  he  cried 
in  agony: 

"God  help  me— Fm  lost!" 

She  revived  as  quickly  as  she  had  collapsed  and 
murmured: 

"I  was  about  to  faint — quick,  let's    get  out!" 

He  led  her  through  the  iron  grilled  door  into 
the  moonlit  shadows  of  the  lawn. 

"Oh!"  she  cried  with  a  gasp  of  relief.  "What 
a  wild  experience!  I  hope  I  didn't  do  anything 
very    silly — did    I.?"  she    asked    dreamily. 

"You  did  just  what  any  Httle  girl  of  your  age 
might  do  under  such  conditions,"  he  replied, 
gazing  at  her  with  deep  seriousness.  "Come, 
let  us  find  a  seat  on  the  lawn  and  I'll  tell  you  the 
story  of  the  vault  and  the  secret  way." 

He  led  her  to  the  seat  on  which  he  had  sunk 
in  despair  the  night  he  came  half-mad  with  pain 
to  watch  the  masqueraders  whirl  past  her  lighted 
windows. 

The  full  moon  wrapped  the  earth  in  the  white 
mantle  of  Southern  midsummer  glory,  and  the 
night  wind  stirred,  its  breath  laden  with  the  rich 
perfume  of  every  flower  in  full  bloom.  A  katydid 
was  singing  a  plaintive  song  in  the  tree  above,  and 
in  the  rose  bushes  near  the  porch  a  mocking-bird 
rehearsed  in  a  burst  of  mad  joy  every  love  song 
of  the  feathered  world. 


I90  THE  TRAITOR 

In  low,  rapid  tones  John  told  her  the  story  of 
Robert  Graham's  great  love  for  his  Huguenot 
grandmother  and  why  he  built  the  vault  and 
secret  way. 

She  listened  and  furtively  watched  him  strug- 
gling w4th  his  emotions. 

Suddenly  he  turned,  looked  tenderly  into  her 
eyes  and  took  her  hand. 

"After  all,  Miss  Stella,  what  else  matters  on 
earth,  when  life  has  once  been  made  glorious  by 
a  great,  deathless  love — such  a  love  as  that  which 
has  grown  in  my  own  heart  for  you. " 

Stella  turned  away  to  hide  the  flash  of  triumph 
with  which  her  face  was  flushed. 

"Ah!  don't  answer  me  now,"  he  rushed  on. 
"  I  don't  ask  it.  I  only  beg  the  privilege  of  telling 
you — telling  you  how  you  have  lifted  my  soul  from 
the  shadows  of  self  and  hate,  and  made  life 
radiant  and  beautiful.  I  dare  not  hope  that  you 
love  me  yet — that  you  only  hear  me  is  enough. 
That  I  sit  by  your  side  and  tell  you  is  all  I  ask. 
My  love  is  so  deep,  so  full,  so  rich,  so  great,  it  is 
glory  and  life  and  strength  within  itself.  I  could 
die  to-night  and  count  my  life  a  triumph,  because 
I've  seen  you  and  loved  you,  and  you  have  heard 
me.     May  I  tell  you  all  that  is  in  my  heart  V 

He  leaned  closer  and  pressed  her  hand  gently. 

"Yes,"  she  whispered.  "Why  not.?" 


THE  DAUGHTER  OF  EVE  191 

"  I  dare  not  tell  you  why  I  pause  to  ask  the 
question.  I've  sometimes  thought  that  an  im- 
passable gulf  yawned  between  us.  To-night  I've 
thrown  such  rubbish  to  the  winds.  There's  no 
gulf  so  wide,  so  deep  and  dark  the  heart  of  love 
may  not  leap  it.  Nothing  matters  save  that  I 
love  you,  that  you  smile  and  hear  me!" 

"I  am  honoured  in  your  love,"  she  answered 
gently. 

"  Ah !  you  can  never  know  how  sweet  it  is  to  hear 
that  from  your  dear  lips,  I  cannot  tell  you  the 
madness  of  the  joy  that  fills  me,  when  I  realise 
that  I  have  found  in  you  all  I've  ever  dreamed  of 
beauty,  tenderness  and  purity.  All  the  songs  of 
life  that  poets  dream  and  find  no  words  in  which 
to  sing,  I  feel  within.  If  you  should  send  me  from 
your  presence  now,  I'd  laugh  at  Death  for  I  have 
tasted  Life!  To  win  your  love  is  all  I  ask  of  this 
world  or  the  next — You  will  let  me  try  ? " 

"Yes,"  said  the  low  voice,  as  she  placed  her 
hand  again  in  his. 

"Then  I  must  go,"  he  said,  rising  and  lifting  her 
from  the  seat — "I've  said  enough  to-night.  I 
must  go  before  I  dare  say  too  much  and  break  the 
spell  of  joy  that  holds  me." 

At  the  door  he  asked. 

"I  may  come  again  to-morrow?" 

"Yes,  at  eight." 


192  THE  TRAITOR 

He  bowed  and  kissed  the  tips  of  her  fingers. 

*T  may  have  something  to  say  to  you  to-morrow," 
she  said  seriously. 

"  I  shall  count  the  minutes  of  every  hour  that 
separates    us." 

She  watched  the  tall  figure  pass  swiftly  and 
joyously  along  the  white  gravelled  moonlit  walk, 
while  a  paean  of  fierce  joy  welled  within  her  heart. 

*'l've  won — I've  won,  beyond  the  shadow  of 
a  doubt!"  she  cried,  exultantly. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE    TRACKS    AT   THE    DOOR 

WITHIN  thirty  minutes  after  Ackerman  had 
received  Stella's  message  that  she  had 
found  the  secret  entrance  to  the  house  he  was 
waiting  for  her  at  the  door  of  the  vault  as  she  had 
suggested. 

He  had  entered  by  the  rear  wagon  road  and 
passed  into  the  shrubbery  without  attracting  the 
attention  of  the  servants. 

She  showed  him  the  way  to  the  underground 
passage  through  the  niche  in  the  rear  of  the  vault, 
and  in  ten  minutes  Ackerman  entered  the  hall 
through  the  panel  under  the  stairs. 

Stella,  who  had  returned  to  the  house  across 
the  lawn,  watched  the  panel  slowly  open  at  his 
touch  and  her  eyes  gleamed  with  a  cold,  hard 
light  as  she  saw  reenacted  in  imagination  the 
tragedy  of  her  father's  death. 

The  detective  made  an  accurate  diagram  of  the 
hall,  measured  carefully  the  distance  of  the  secret 
door  from  the  chair  in  which  the  Judge  had  been 
found,  and  reexamined  the  ballroom  and  all  its 
possible  exits  and  entrances. 

193 


194  THE  TRAITOR 

Stella  returned  to  the  entrance  of  the  vault  and 
placed  a  padlock  and  chain  on  its  iron  door  while 
Ackerman  again  entered  the  underground  passage 
and  spent  two  hours  alone,  making  the  most 
minute  examinations  and  measurements  of  every 
track  to  be  found  at  any  point  from  the  door  of  the 
vault  to  the  panel  in  the  wainscoting.  The  work 
of  measurement  was  rendered  easy  by  the  accumula- 
tion of  soft  earth  in  the  bottom  of  the  underground 
way  from  the  action  of  the  water  which  had  soaked 
through  the  brick  ceiling  and  walls. 

He  discovered  the  footprints  of  eleven  different 
men  besides  the  dainty  mark  of  Stella's  little  shoe 
made  the  night  before. 

He  returned  to  the  hall  and  asked  her  permis- 
sion to  come  from  time  to  time  and  continue  his 
study  of  the  grounds. 

"Certainly,"  she  answered  eagerly.  "And  your 
discoveries  ^ " 

"Confirm  so  far  my  theory  of  the  crime,"  he 
answered  quickly.  "The  assassins  undoubtedly 
entered  the  house  by  this  secret  passage,  com- 
mitted the  crime  and  passed  quickly  out  without 
discovery.  I  did  not  know  who  was  with  you 
last  night,  but  he  has  been  there  at  least  once 
before  within  the  past  few  weeks." 

"Is    it   possible!"  Stella   exclaimed. 

"I  find,"  he  continued,  "that  he  merely  took 


THE  TRACKS  AT  THE  DOOR      195 

a  single  step  inside  the  door  leading  from  the 
vault  into  the  underground  passage  as  if  he  were 
showing  the  way  to  others  who  traversed  the 
entire  length." 

Stella's  red  lips  were  suddenly  pressed  tight  and 
Ackerman  watched  her  keenly. 

"This  may  mean  something  or  it  may  mean 
nothing.  It  all  depends  on  what  night  he  stepped 
inside  the  door." 

*'I  see,"  she  said  cautiously. 

"Other  facts  I  have  found  are  of  significance," 
he  went  on.  "  I  have  located  Mr.  Isaac  A.  Postle, 
and  learned  from  him  two  startHng  things.  First 
that  he  encountered  John  Graham  at  the  gate  on 
the  night  of  the  murder — collided  with  him,  he 
declares,  as  he  was  running  from  the  masked  men 
who  had  just  galloped  past  his  cottage." 

The  girl  smothered  a  cry. 

"He  also  says  that  later  in  the  evening,  just 
before  the  murder  occurred,  he  passed  by  the 
front  door  and  saw  John  Graham  seated  on  a 
rustic  bench  in  the  shadows  watching  the  house." 

" It's  horrible — it's  horrible!"    Stella  murmured. 

"The  two  statements  contradict  each  other. 
Uncle  Isaac  is  lying  at  some  point  of  his  story. 
If  he  ran  for  his  life  from  the  masqueraders  he 
certainly  would  not  have  returned  to  the  house  in 
thirty  minutes  while  they  were  still  there.     Until 


196  THE  TRAITOR 

I  can  find  the  motive  for  that  He  his  story  must  be 
taken  with  a  large  grain  of  salt.  In  the  meantime 
if  you  can  confirm  for  me  his  statement  that 
Graham  was  here  on  that  night  you  will  do  me  a 
service." 

**  Within  a  week  I'll  tell  you/*  she  replied,  the 
strange  cold  light  flashing  again  from  her  eyes. 


CHAPTER  IX 


A   TEST  OF    STRENGTH 


IN  TAKING  leave  of  Ackerman  Stella  went 
immediately  to  her  room  to  select  her  dress 
and  plan  her  campaign  for  John  Graham's 
reception  in  the  evening, 

A  feeling  of  reaction  depressed  her.  The 
passionate  warmth  and  tenderness  of  his  love 
remained  a  haunting  memory.  A  sense  of  loneli- 
ness crept  into  her  heart.  She  began  to  see  that 
she  was  playing  a  desperate  game  with  the  great 
stake  of  a  human  life  as  the  issue.  The  con- 
sciousness of  its  possible  tragedy  began  to  be 
dimly  felt.  She  sat  staring  idly  at  the  gowns  she 
had  piled  on  the  big  tester  bed  without  being 
able   to   make  a   selection. 

"Fve  begun  a  daring  task,"  she  mused.  "The 
wit  and  beauty  of  a  girl  of  twenty  against  the  iron 
will  and  personality  of  a  man  of  genius.  A  man 
just  entering  his  thirtieth  year,  who  has  looked 
Death  in  the  face  on  the  field  of  battle  and 
dared  defy  the  power  of  the  Government  that 
has  crushed  him.     Can  I  win  ?" 

The  closer  she  had  drawn  to  John  Graham  in 

197 


198  THE  TRAITOR 

their  intimate  daily  association  the  more  impossible 
seemed  the  idea  that  such  a  man  could  have  mur- 
dered her  father  or  known  of  such  a  crime.  And 
yet  the  closer  each  day  drew  the  net  of  circum- 
stantial evidence  about  him  and  the  fiercer  grew 
her  determination  to  demand  the  life  of  the 
murderer. 

What  had  surprised  her  most  of  all  in  his 
character  was  the  spirit  of  eternal  youth  within 
him — youth  strong,  fresh,  buoyant  and  throbbing 
with  poetic  ideals.  At  first  she  had  thought  him 
sombre  and  morose,  yet  in  his  presence  she  could 
never  imagine  him  more  than  twenty  years  of  age. 
In  many  of  his  little  ways  and  moods  she  found 
him  more  boy  than  man.  And  she  must  acknowl- 
edge the  truth — she  had  begun  to  think  of  his 
possible  death  as  a  criminal  with  a  pang  of  regret. 

She  rose  and  studied  her  beautiful  figure  in  her 
mirror  until  self  and  pride  once  more  filled  the 
universe. 

"Bah!  What  to  me  is  the  life  of  the  man  who 
struck  my  father  dead  at  my  feet!  I'll  amuse  myself 
by  playing  the  game  of  love  with  him  for  a  week, 
and  then  for  the  master-stroke.  I'll  watch  him  as 
a  cat  a  mouse,  and  when  I'm  ready,  strike  to  kill. 
If  he  had  no  mercy,  I  shall  have  none." 

John  found  her  in  a  mood  of  elusive  girlishness. 
When   he  begged   her  to   remember  her  parting 


A  TEST  OF  STRENGTH  199 

words,  the  half-pledged  promise  of  a  message  for 
which  he  waited,  she  only  laughed  and  fenced. 

She  allowed  him  to  call  each  afternoon  and 
evening  for  a  week  until  he  was  drunk  with  the 
joy  of  her  presence — until  the  sense  of  personal 
intimacy  and  the  growing  consciousness  of  com- 
radeship had  made  his  will  obedient  to  her  slightest 
whim.  It  amused  her  to  watch  the  growth  of 
his  powers  of  intuition,  born  of  this  daily  life,  which 
enabled  him  to  anticipate  her  wishes. 

For  the  man,  these  days  were  as  water  to  the 
lips  of  a  thirsty  dreamer.  In  the  heart  of  the 
girl,  who  studied  his  every  movement  with  deep 
sinister  purpose,  there  had  grown  a  cruel  joy  in 
the  consciousness  of  the  tyranny  she  wielded  over 
a  powerful  human  life. 

Toward  the  end  of  the  week  he  began  to  beg 
her  tenderly  for  a  single  word  of  love.  At  last  she 
promised  him  an  answer  on  the  evening  following, 
and  forbade  his  afternoon  call.  She  knew  the 
effect  of  his  longer  absence  would  be  to  give  her 
greater  power.  At  last  she  was  sure  that  the  hour 
had  struck  toward  which  she  had  moved  with 
such  infinite  pains,  the  hour  of  his  complete 
surrender  and  his  utter  trust,  w^hen  she  had  but 
to  breathe  her  wish  to  know  the  guarded  secrets 
of  the  Klan  and  they  would  be  whispered  into  her 
ear  without  a  moment's  hesitation. 


200  THE  TRAITOR 

She  had  planned  to  lead  him  to  the  seat  amid 
the  shadows  of  the  trees  near  the  house  from  which 
Isaac  said  he  had  watched  the  dance  the  night  of 
the  tragedy,  and  if  possible  gain  both  important 
secrets  at  once. 

She  again  selected  the  low  cut  white  chiffon 
she  wore  the  night  he  had  declared  his  love. 

Maggie's  keen  eyes  watched  her  dress  with  a 
^  care  never  shown  before.  The  little  black  maid 
flashed  her  white  teeth  more  than  once  behind 
her  back  as  she  observed  the  delicate  yet  sure  art 
with  which,  by  a  touch  here  and  there,  her  mistress 
managed  to  suggest  with  unusual  daring  the 
physical  charms  of  her  extraordinary  beauty. 
When  the  task  was  finished  and  she  surveyed  her 
form  in  her  mirror  with  a  look  of  proud  content, 
Maggie  laughed: 

"You  sho'  is  trying  ter  kill  'im  to-night!" 

"  Maggie,  how  dare  you  suggest  such  a  thing! " 

"De  Laws  a  mussy,  Miss  Stella,  I  des  mean  dat 
you'se  de  purtiest  thing  in  de  whole  worl'  an'  he 
gwine  drap  dead  quick  as  he  sees  ye!" 

"That  will  do,  Maggie,"  she  said  severely. 

"  Yassum." 

But  in  spite  of  her  severity,  the  mistress  smiled 
at  the  maid,  and  Maggie  burst  into  a  fit  of  laughter. 
When  at  length  it  subsided,  she  stood  with  wide 
staring  worshipful  eyes  gazing  at  Stella  entranced. 


A  TEST  OF  STRENGTH  201 

"Ef  I  could  look  lak  dat,  Miss  Stella,  I'd  let 
'em  bile  me  in  ile,  roast  me  on  a  red-hot  stove  and 
peel  me!" 

"You  are  breaking  the  Ten  Commandments, 
Maggie." 

"Yassum,  I'd  bust  a  hundred  commandments 
ef  I  could  look  lak  you." 

"I  accept  the  compliment,  if  I  can't  commend 
your  morals." 

"Yassum." 

A  sudden  flash  of  lightning  revealed  the  clouds 
of  a  rapidly  approaching  summer  storm. 

Stella   frowned. 

*'  It's  going  to  storm,"  she  said,  fretfully, 

"Yassum,  but  he'll  come." 

The  mistress  laughed  in  spite  of  herself. 

"I'm  not  worrying  about  his  coming,  Maggie." 

"Nobum,  you  needn't  worry.  He  swim  er 
river  ef  he  couldn't  git  here  no  odder  way — dar 
he  is  now!" 

His  familiar  knock  echoed  through  the  hall  and 
the  maid  hastened  to  open  the  door. 

When  Stella  stood  before  him,  John  seized  both 
her  hands  and  looked  into  her  deep  eyes  with 
silent  rapture. 

"  How  glorious  you  are  to-night!"  he  whispered 
passionately. 

She  made  no  answer  save  the  sensitive  smile  of 


202  THE  TRAITOR 

triumph  which  lighted  her  face  and  quivered 
through  her  form. 

"I  meant  to  find  a  seat  on  the  lawn  to-night,  but 
it's  going  to  rain." 

"Yes,  I  ran,  to  get  here  first,"  he  cried  with 
boyish  enthusiasm — "  It's  raining  now,  but  the 
old  davenport  under  the  stairs  is  cosey  on  a  rainy 
night." 

She  looked  at  the  panel  door  and  hesitated. 

*' You're  not  afraid  of  ghosts  from  below  I 
hope  .?"  he  laughed. 

"No,  I've  locked  the  iron  door,"  she  announced 
soberly,  taking  her  seat  by  his  side. 

With  a  vivid  flash  of  lightning  followed  by  a 
crash  of  thunder  the  storm  broke,  the  big  rain- 
drops mixed  with  hail  rattling  furiously  against 
the  windows. 

Stella  nestled  closer  to  his  side,  and  John  turned 
his  swarthy,  eager  face  toward  her. 

"Now,  while  the  storm  roars,"  he  whispered, 
"and  shuts  out  the  world,  drawing  us  closer 
together — so  close  I  feel  that  there  is  no  world 
beyond  the  touch  of  your  hand  and  the  music  of 
your  voice — won't  you  tell  me  what  my  heart  is 
starving  to  hear  ?" 

"Do  you  realise  what  it  means  for  a  girl  to  say 
to  a  man, '  I  love  you'  ?"  she  asked  slowly. 

"I  do,"  was  the  quick  answer. 


A  TEST  OF  STRENGTH  203 

"In  all  its  depths?" 

"Yes.  It  means  the  utter  surrender  of  soul  and 
body  or  it  means  nothing!" 

"And  yet,  you  ask  that  I  say  it?" 

"I  know  that  I'm  not  worthy,  but  Love  has 
always  dared  to  claim  its  own,  soul  crying  to  soul, 
mate  calling  to  mate — I  love  you!  I  love  you! 
Ah !  The  story  is  old  as  the  throb  of  life,  yet  always 
new  and  full  of  wonder.  I  know  it's  too  much  to 
ask,  yet  I  dare  to  ask  it." 

"There  should  be  no  shadows  between  those 
who  thus  love,  should  there?"  she  asked  with  a 
far-away  dreamy  look  as  if  his  burning  words  had 
caught  her  spirit  in  their  spell. 

"No,"  he  answered,  solemnly.  "A  thousand 
times  I've  longed  to  tell  you  how  tender  was  my 
sympathy  for  you  in  the  tragedy  that  threw  its 
shadow  across  your  young  life  in  this  hall  a  few 
months   ago." 

"And  yet  you  didn't,"  she  said  reproachfully, 
studying  him  keenly  and  furtively,  with  her  head 
bowed  as  if  in  grief  for  the  memory  of  her  father. 

"How  could  I  without  hypocrisy?  The  Judge 
and  I  had  been  uncompromising  enemies.  Could 
I  tear  my  heart  open  and  let  the  vulgar  world  see 
the  deep  secret  of  my  love  for  you  ? " 

"You  loved  me  then?"  she  broke  in  with 
surprise. 


204  THE  TRAITOR 

"From  the  moment  you  crossed  this  old  hall 
the  night  I  met  you.'* 

"Loved  me  when  you  refused  to  answer  my 
appeal  in  person  the  day  I  wrote  you  ?" 
"I  refused  because  I  loved  you." 
She  looked  at  him  a  moment  with  a  feeling  of 
sudden  fear.  For  the  first  time  she  realised  with  a 
shock  that  her  imperious  will  to  master  his  life 
was  not  the  only  force  at  work.  The  shadowy 
figure  of  Fate  stood  grim  and  silent  before  her. 

"The  man  who  wins  my  heart,"  she  said  firmly, 
"can  hold  no  reservations — he  must  be  all  mine, 
body   and    soul.      He  asks    as   much    of  me.      I 
demand  the  same.  Are  you  ready  to  place  your  life 
in  my  hands  as  I  am  asked  to  place  mine  in  yours  f " 
"Without  reservation,"   he  answered. 
"I  must  be  frank  with  you,"  she  said,  turning 
her  eyes  appealingly  on  him.     "Since  the  awful 
night  I  saw  my  father  sitting  dead  in  that  chair 
with  those  masked  figures,  white,  silent  and  terrible 
behind  me,  I  have  had  a  morbid  curiosity  mingled 
with  terror  for  everything  and  everyone  connected 
with   the    Klan.     I    have   heard   that  you   are   a 
member  ?" 

John  suddenly  knelt  before  her  and  took  her 
hand. 

"  Here  on  my  knees  before  you  and  before  God — 
and  when  I  am  before  you  I  am  in  the  presence  of 


A  TEST  OF  STRENGTH  205 

God! — I  call  the  spirit  of  the  dead  back  on  the 
wings  of  this  storm  to-night  into  this  hall  to  witness 
when  I  swear  to  you  that  I  am  innocent  of  any 
knowledge  of  his  death!" 

"And  there  shall  be  not  one  shadow  between 
us  r 

"Not  one.  Every  secret  of  my  life  shall  be  laid 
bare  before  I'd  dare  claim  you  as  my  wife.  I 
only  beg  to-night  one  word  of  love  from  your  dear 
lips.  You  believe  me  when  I  swear  to  you,  on 
my  honour,  my  life,  my  love  that  I  am  innocent  .^" 

"Yes,  I  believe  and  trust  you!" 

He  bowed  and  kissed  her  fingers  reverently. 

"And  now  you  must  show  that  you  trust  me 
before  I  speak,"  she  went  on  dreamily — "you 
are  in  reality  the  Chief  of  the  Klan  in  North 
Carolina,  are  you  not  ?" 

John's  hand  trembled,  his  lips  quivered,  and  a 
look  of  mortal  anguish  overspread  his  face. 

"Please  don't  ask  me  that  yet?"  he  begged. 

"You  are  afraid  to  trust  me?"  she  said 
reproachfully. 

"  I  trust  you  implicitly,"  he  cried,  pressing  her 
hand,  but  do  not  ask  me  now!" 

"The  hands  of  Southern  women  made  those 
white  and  scarlet  costumes,"  she  persisted.  "  May 
I  not  share  at  least  one  of  its  secrets  with  them  ?" 

"Remember   that   conditions    have   changed!" 


2o6  THE  TRAITOR 

he  urged — "A  price  is  set  on  the  head  of  every 
member  of  the  Klan.  The  South  now  swarms 
with  spies — the  Government  is  straining  every 
nerve  to  learn  the  secrets  of  the  order — have  I 
the  right  even  to  breathe  the  name  of  the  Klan 
while  another's  life  may  hang  on  my  word  ?" 

"I  see,"  she  cried  with  scorn,  rising.  "The 
daughter  of  a  murdered  'Scalawag'  judge  may 
not  be  trusted  as  other  loyal  women  of  the  proud 
old  aristocratic  South!" 

"Please,  I  beg  of  you '* 

"You  may  go!"  she  said  proudly. 

And  without  another  word  she  quickly  turned, 
ascended  the  stairs  and  disappeared. 

John  stood  for  a  moment  blind  and  dumb  with 
pain,  mechanically  took  his  hat  and  slowly  passed 
through  the  door  and  out  into  the  black,  raging 
storm. 


CHAPTER  X 

BEHIND    BOLTED    DOORS 

JOHN  GRAHAM  fought  his  way  home 
heedless  of  the  storm's  bhnding  fury. 
The  hurricane  without  was  but  a  zephyr  to  the 
one  which  raged  within  his  own  soul.  Again 
and  again  he  asked  himself  the  question  why 
Stella  should  have  demanded  of  him  such  a 
confession. 

He  had  instantly  resented  it.  Perhaps  he  had 
scented  danger.  And  yet  it  was  preposterous  to 
think  the  girl  he  worshipped  could  have  desired 
this  dangerous  knowledge  to  be  used  against  him. 

Ackerman  in  discussing  his  mill  projects  in 
the  office  during  the  afternoon  had  asked  him  a 
number  of  irritating  questions  about  the  Klan 
which  he  had  skilfully  parried.  His  mind  was 
over-sensitive  and  sore  perhaps  from  this  annoyance. 
Ackerman  could  have  nothing  to  do  with  Stella — 
they  were  not  even  passing  acquaintances. 

From  every  point  of  view  he  tested  the  problem 
of  her  possible  design  to  use  this  knowledge  and 
found  it  preposterous.     There  was  but  one  reason- 

207 


2o8  THE  TRAITOR 

able  explanation.  She  had  found  with  her  keen 
woman's  intuition  the  one  weak  spot  in  his  mental 
attitude  toward  her.  Yes,  it  was  true.  He  loved 
her  with  passionate  devotion,  but  he  had  not  fully 
trusted  her.  She  had  discovered  it.  Had  she 
not  thus  revealed  the  true  state  of  her  own  heart  ? 
She  must  love  him.  Otherwise  this  keen  sensitive- 
ness to  his  moods  would  not  be  possible.  The 
thought  was  sweet  in  spite  of  his  agony  over  their 
break.  After  all  she  was  right,  proud  little  queen 
of  his  heart,  to  demand  his  loyal  faith!  Should  he 
yield  to  her  this  perilous  secret  of  his  own  life  .? 
Would  he  thus  endanger  those  with  whom  he  had 
been  associated  in  the  daring  task  of  saving  the 
civilisation  of  the  South  in  the  blackest  hour  of 
her   history  ? 

While  the  battle  thus  raged  in  his  soul  he  reached 
his  room,  removed  his  drenched  clothing  and 
replaced  them  with  dry  ones.  He  walked  to  his 
window  and  looked  out  on  the  spluttering  street 
lamp  across  the  way  struggling  to  hold  its  tiny 
flame  against  the  storm  and  wondered  why  he 
had  dressed  again.  He  should  have  gone  to  bed. 
And  then  the  dawning  sense  of  loss  and  misery 
crushed  him.  He  sank  into  a  chair  and  watched 
the  rain  dash  against  the  glass  and  stream  down 
the  sides  of  the  window,  his  heart  aching  in  dumb 
agony. 


BEHIND  BOLTED  DOORS         209 

"My  God!"  he  cried  at  last,  "I  can't  live 
without  her!     She  loves  me,  and  I  must  win  her!" 

The  memory  of  her  cold  words  as  she  ordered 
him  from  the  house  came  crashing  back  into  his 
heart  with  sinister  echoes.  Never  had  he  seen  a 
human  being  so  transformed  by  anger — eyes  that 
a  moment  before  had  held  him  enraptured  with 
their  tender  light  had  flashed  cold  points  of  steel. 
Hands,  soft  and  warm  and  full  of  velvet  feeling, 
had  closed  in  rage  as  the  claws  of  a  tigress! 

Suppose  she  refused  to  see  him  again  .?  It  was 
unthinkable.  He  seemed  to  have  lived  a  century 
within  the  weeks  since  she  had  called  him  to  her 
side.  The  life  which  had  gone  before  grew  dim. 
Four  years  of  war  and  two  years  of  daring  secret 
revolution  as  a  leader  of  the  Invisible  Empire 
faded  from  his  consciousness.  Only  a  great  love 
remained,  and  those  days  by  her  side  seemed  to 
hold  the  full  measure  of  his  Hfe. 

He  undressed  and  went  to  bed,  only  to  roll  and 
toss  hour  after  hour  without  sleep. 

He  saw  the  first  gray  light  of  dawn  with  a  sense 
of  utter  desolation.  The  rain  had  ceased  an  hour 
before.  Swift  flying  clouds  and  swaying  tree- 
tops  heralded  the  coming  of  a  clear,  beautiful 
day.  He  determined  to  write  at  once  and  beg  to 
see  her.  In  a  moment  his  mind  was  on  fire  with 
his   passionate   plea.     As   the  sun  rose,  reflecting 


210  THE  TRAITOR 

through  scurrying  clouds  its  scarlet  and  purple 
glory,  he  hastily  dressed,  sat  down  at  his  table  and 
poured  out  his  anguish  in  burning  words  of 
tenderness  and  love.  He  read  it  over  with  renewed 
hope.  Never  had  he  expressed  himself  so  well. 
The  letter  was  a  living  thing.  No  woman's  hand 
could  touch  it  without  feeling  its  vital  power.  An 
immortal  soul  beat  within  it. 

He  had  added  the  last  line  of  a  postscript  begging 
her  to  name  an  early  hour  at  which  he  might  call, 
and  sat  in  dull  moody  reverie  unconscious  of  the 
flight   of  time. 

A  gentle  knock  on  his  door  roused  him.  He 
opened  it  and  stared  blankly  at  Susie's  gentle  face. 

"I  trust  you're  not  sick,  Mr.  John,"  she  said. 
"Everybody  is  through  breakfast.  I've  kept 
yours  warm." 

"Thank  you.  Miss  Susie.  I've  only  a  little 
headache.  I  won't  eat  any  breakfast.  I've 
important  work  at  the  office.  I'm  going  down 
at  once." 

As  he  passed  her  at  the  head  of  the  stairs  she 
said  with  a  wistful  look: 

"Mama  says  she  heard  you  stirring  all  night. 
If  I  can  help  you,  won't  you  let  me  ?" 

"Yes,  little  comrade,  I  will.  I'll  let  you  know," 
he  answered,  swinging  quickly  down  the  stairs 
and  out  the  front  door. 


BEHIND  BOLTED  DOORS         211 

He  found  a  boy  on  the  street  and  sent  him  to 
Stella  with  his  letter.  He  stood  at  his  office  door 
and  watched  him  until  out  of  sight  and  counted 
the  minutes  until  he  reappeared.  He  had  paid 
him  a  dime  on  dispatching  the  letter  and  promised 
to  double  it  if  he  came  back  in  a  hurry.  Fifteen 
minutes  later  he  smiled  as  he  saw  the  boy  coming 
in  a  run,  his  swift  bare  feet  making  the  dirt  fly 
in  the  middle  of  the  street. 

"I  knew  it!  Of  course,  she  will  see  me!"  he 
exclaimed  as  he  bounded  up  his  stairs  two  rounds 
at  a  jump.  He  gave  the  astonished  boy  a  quarter 
instead  of  another  dime,  hurried  into  his  offiice, 
and  slammed  the  door.  He  felt  the  weight  of  the 
letter  with  faint  misgivings.  It  was  large  to  have 
been  written  so  quickly.  Yet  it  was  addressed 
with  her  own  dear  hand.  He  tore  it  open,  and 
from  his  trembling  fingers  dropped  his  own  letter 
with  the  seal  unbroken.  Not  a  line  from  her. 
Her  meaning  could  not  be  misunderstood.  She 
could  have  offered  him  no  deeper  insult.  He  sank 
to  his  seat  with  a  groan  and  sat  for  an  hour  in  a 
stupor  of  wounded  pride.  "  I  won't  accept 
such  an  answer  from  her!"  he  cried  bitterly. 
"And  I  won't  stand  on  ceremony." 

He  walked  down  the  street  to  the  gate  of  the 
driveway  of  the  Graham  house,  hoping  he  might 
find  Aunt  Julie  Ann  at  her  cottage.     The  door 


212  THE  TRAITOR 

was  closed  and  he  could  get  no  response  to  his 
knock.  He  looked  longingly  at  the  old  house 
shining  with  its  snow  white  doors  and  windows 
against  the  dark  fresh  green  of  the  rain-soaked 
trees,  and  thought  with  a  pang  of  his  quarrel  over 
its  possession.  What  did  houses  matter  if  the 
heart  was  sick  unto  death!  The  humblest  Negro 
cabin  would  be  a  palace  if  only  her  face  would 
shine  from  the  doorway! 

He  felt  himself.drawn  toward  her  with  resistless 
force  and  before  he  realised  what  he  was  doing 
his  hand  was  on  the  brass  knocker  and  its  echoes 
were  ringing  through  the  hall. 

Aunt  Julie  Ann  shook  her  head  as  she  ushered 
him  in. 

"I  wish  ye  hadn't  come,  marse  John,"  she  said 
sorrowfully. 
"Why   not.?" 

"She  shut  hersef  up  in  de  room  an'  won't  let 
nobody  come  in.  I  creep  up  to  de  door,  and  hear 
her  cryin'  soP  an'  low.  I  knock  an'  she  didn' 
answer.  I  knock  again  an'  calls  her  sweet  names 
an'  ax  her  please  lemme  do  sumfin  for  her.  She 
jump  up  an'  stamp  her  foot  an'  say  she  kill  me 
ef  I  doan'  leave  her  'lone.  I'se  skeered  of  her, 
honey,  she  ain't  lak  our  folks.  When  de  old 
Boy's  in  her  lak  it  is  ter  day  she  talks  jes  lak  de 
Judge,     When    she    laughs   an'   plays    an'    looks 


BEHIND  BOLTED  DOORS         213 
purty  as  an  angel  her  voice  jest  like  her  Ma's,  low 


an'  sweet." 


"Tell  her  I'm  here  and  wish  to  see  her" — John 
interrupted  with  impatience. 

Aunt  Julie  Ann  shook  her  head  again: 

"You  better  not  honey!" 

"I  must  see  her.     Try!" 

John  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  nervously 
fumbling  his  hat  while  Aunt  Julie  Ann  climbed 
to  the  floor  and  knocked  on  her  door. 

He  listened  breathlessly  for  her  answer.  The 
key  clicked  in  the  lock  and  Stella  opened  it  wide 
enough  to  be  distinctly  heard.  Her  voice  rang 
cold  and  clear: 

"Tell  Mr.  Graham  to  leave  this  house  instantly 
and  never  enter  it  again!" 

The  door  closed  and  the  bolt  flashed  into  its 
place  again. 

John's  face  flushed  red,  the  colour  slowly  fading 
as  his  strong  jaws  snapped  with  new  determination. 

"In  spite  of  the  devil,  I'll  win  her  yet!" 


CHAPTER  XI 

A   VOICE    IN    WARNING 

TWO  days  passed  without  a  word  of  hope  for 
John.  On  the  third  morning  after  his 
dismissal  by  Stella  he  sat  pale  and  listless  at 
breakfast,  scarcely  tasting  his  food,  while  Susie 
watched  his  drawn  face  with  keen  sympathetic  eyes. 

An  hour  later  she  entered  his  office. 

*'You  promised  to  let  me  help  you,"  she  said 
quietly.     "I  have  come." 

He  looked  at  her  a  moment  and  wondered  why 
he  had  never  before  seen  her  striking  beauty.  A 
tall  figure  with  exquisite  sylph  like  lines,  a  serene 
and  perfectly  moulded  face  with  straight,  thought- 
ful brows  shadowing  the  tenderest  gray-blue  eyes, 
and  a  crown  of  luxuriant  auburn  blonde  hair. 

He  caught  at  once  the  sincere  sympathy  of  her 
mood,  as  he  pressed  her  hand. 

"I  never  saw  you  so  beautiful.  Miss  Susie,  or 
your  face  so  sweet  and  restful." 

She  blushed  and  looked  out  the  window. 

*'I  can't  tell  you  how  I  thank  you  for  coming. 
I  think  we  must  have  been  brother  and  sister  in 
some  other  world  before  this." 

214 


A  VOICE  IN  WARNING  215 

The  corners  of  the  girl's  Hps  twitched  and  she 
turned  her  tender  eyes  full  on  John's. 

"You  are  in  love  with  Stella?" 

"Yes." 

"And  she  has  rejected  you  ?" 

"No,  we  have  quarrelled  and  she  refuses  to 
see  me  or  read  my  letters." 

"She  loves  you  ?" 

"I've  hoped  so,  I  don't  know.  She  lets  me 
feel  it  without  words." 

"We  are  friends,  what  can  I  do.?" 

"See  her  and  beg  her  for  God's  sake  to  let  me 
call,  at  least  to  read  my  letters.  Will  you  go 
to-day.?" 

"Immediately." 

"Thank  you,"  he  cried,  again  tenderly  pressing 
her  hand.  "You  must  have  loved  too.  Miss 
usie. 

"Perhaps  I  have,"  was  the  soft  reply.  "Write 
your  message  and  I'll  take  it." 

John  seated  himself  and  hastily  wrote: 

My  dear  Stella: 

From  the  bottom  of  a  heart  crushed  with  anguish 
I  ask  your  pardon  for  my  lack  of  faith.  Your  pride  was 
right.  Give  me  a  chance  and  I  will  show  you  what  the 
trust  of  perfect  love  means  for  me.  I  await  from  you  the 
words  of  life  or  death. 

John  Graham. 


2i6  THE  TRAITOR 

Susie  promised  to  return  at  once  with  her  answer. 
She  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  old  Graham 
house  with  a  strange  conflict  raging  in  her  own 
breast.  She  hoped  to  succeed  for  the  sake  of  the 
aching  heart  of  the  man  she  had  left,  and  yet 
mingled  with  the  fear  of  failure  was  the  half-mad 
wish  that  Stella  might  reject  his  plea. 

Aunt    Julie   Ann's    face   was    troubled   as    she 
greeted  Susie. 

"Tell  Miss  Stella,  that  Tm  very  sorry  to  learn  of 
her  illness  and  I  trust  she  can  see  me  a  moment." 

"Yassum,  I  tell  her — but  I'se  feard  she  ain't 
well  enough." 

Aunt  Julie  Ann  returned  immediately,  smiling. 
"She   say   come   right   up   to   her  room,   Miss 
Susie." 

Susie  was  shocked  to  note  the  change  in  the 
beautiful  young  face  lying  still  and  pale  against  the 
white  pillow. 

"I'm  sorry  to  find  you  so  ill!" 
"Yes,    I    suppose    I    have   nerves,"     she    said, 
smiling    wanly.     "I    didn't    know    it    before.     I 
think  some  of  them  must  have  snapped — but  I'm 
better  now.     I'll  get  up  this  afternoon." 

"I've  something  that  will  help  you,  if  you  will 
take  it." 

Stella's  brow  clouded,  and  her  eyes,  wide  and 
cold,  assumed  a  sinister  half-mad  expression. 


A  VOICE  IN  WARNING  217 

"You  have  a  message  from  Mr.  Graham?" 

"How  did  you  guess  it?" 

"He  has  tried  every  other  possible  way.  I 
wondered  if  he  would  stoop  to  this." 

"Stoop! — what  do  you  mean  ?" 

"To  use  you  for  such  a  purpose." 

"And  why  not  ?" 

"You  ask  that  of  me?"  The  great  brown  eyes 
pierced  Susie's  soul. 

"Certainly." 

"Then  it's  all  right,"  she  said  with  a  light  laugh. 

"You  must  receive  his  message,"  Susie  said. 
"You've  won  the  heart  of  the  noblest  man  I  have 
ever  known — a  great,  beautiful,  measureless  love. 
Don't  turn  away  from  it — you  may  not  know  its 
like  again." 

The  full  lips  smiled  curiously. 

"I've  brought  you  a  letter  from  him — you  must 
read  it." 

Susie  pressed  the  letter  into  Stella's  hand  and 
turned  away  to  the  window.  She  heard  the  rattle 
of  the  paper  as  it  was  opened  and  refolded, 
and  walked  back  to  the  bedside.  Before  she 
could  ask  Stella's  answer,  her  eye  rested  on  a  letter 
in  Ackerman's  handwriting,  lying  open  on  the 
white  covering.  She  started  violently  but  managed 
to  suppress  an  exclamation.  Only  that  morning 
she  had  received  herself  a  letter  from  the  young 


2i8  THE  TRAITOR 

Northerner  declaring  his  love  in  simple,  honest 
fashion.  She  couldn't  believe  her  eyes  at  first, 
but  a  second  look  convinced  her  of  its  reality. 
What  puzzled  her  still  more  was  to  observe  beside 
this  letter  a  sheet  of  paper  on  which  was  drawn  the 
diagram  of  the  hall  with  the  minute  accuracy  of 
an  architect's  plan,  with  Ackerman's  notes  inter- 
lining it. 

"What  shall  I  say.^"  she  stammered  in 
confusion. 

Stella  looked  at  her  with  a  momentary  start, 
smiled  and  answered: 

*'Tell  Mr.  Graham  I  have  received  and  read 
his  letter.  I'll  think  it  over  this  evening  and  reply 
to-morrow." 

''Then  I'll  go,"  said  Susie,  taking  her  hand. 
"  I'm  so  glad  I  saw  you." 

As  she  turned  through  the  door  her  eye  again 
was  drawn  irresistibly  to  Ackerman's  letter.  She 
returned  to  John  Graham's  office  stunned  by  this 
puzzling   discovery. 

John  was  bitterly  disappointed  in  the  message 
she  brought.  Her  long  stay  had  raised  in  him  the 
highest  hope.  His  own  surrender  had  been  so 
complete  and  generous,  that  he  could  not  conceive 
it  possible  that  she  would  debate  in  cold  blood  for 
twenty-four  hours  the  question  of  her  answer. 
It  seemed  heartless  and  utterly  cruel.     He  rebelled 


A  VOICE  IN  WARNING  219 

in  fierce  futile  protest.  He  did  not  try  to  conceal 
the  bitterness  of  his  disappointment  from  Susie, 
and  was  too  selfishly  occupied  with  his  own  grief 
to  note  the  constraint  in  her  manner  as  she  hurried 
home  from  his  office,  even  before  he  had  found 
words  in  which  to  thank  her  for  the  dehcate  service 
she  had  rendered  him. 

He  sent  for  Alfred  and  got  word  to  Aunt  Julie 
Ann  that  he  wished  to  see  her  at  her  cottage  after 
supper.  He  knew  that  Alfred  had  taken  advan- 
tage of  Isaac's  long  absence  to  renew  his  calls  on 
his  former  love. 

When  he  arrived  at  nine  o'clock  Aunt  Julie  Ann 
had  placed  a  pot  of  coff^ee  and  a  plate  of  tea-cakes 
on  a  little  table  for  him. 

"What's  de  matter,  honey?"  she  asked. 

"I'm  in  great  trouble.  Aunt  Julie  Ann." 

"Well,  Mammy's  baby  knows  who  ter  come 
to  when  he's  in  trouble!"  she  said  tenderly.  She 
had  always  called  him  baby — this  bronzed  hero 
of  battle  fields.  His  thirty  years  meant  nothing 
to  her  except  increasing  faith  in  his  manhood. 
Since  the  day  she  first  took  his  baby  form  in  her 
arms  she  had  watched  him  grow  in  body  and  spirit 
with  a  brooding  mother  pride. 

"You  must  talk  to  Miss  Stella  for  me,"  he 
said.  "Get  close  to  her  Aunt  Julie  Ann,  you're 
a  woman,  and  tell  her  all  the  good  things  you 


220  THE  TRAITOR 

remember  about  me.  You  know  better  than  I  do 
— you  understand  ?  Make  her  smile  again  and 
get  her  to  see  me." 

"Now,  you  set  down  dar  sir,  an'  drink  dat 
coffee  an'  tell  me  what  you  doin'  gwine  roun'  here 
mopin'  an'  pinin'  yo'  life  out  all  'about  a  gal  don't 
care  two  straws  whedder  you'se  er  livin'  er  dyin'. 
I'd  be  shamed  er  myself,  great  big  grown  man  lak 
you  is,  what  fit  froo  de  war  an'  everybody  say 
gwine  ter  be  de  guvnor  some  day." 

**  Can't  you  get  her  to  see  me,  Aunt  Julie  Ann  ?" 
he  interrupted,  earnestly. 

"Drink  dat  coffee,  an'  den  I  tell  ye!" 

"It's  too  hot  for  coffee — I'm  not  hungry — Tell 
me  now." 

"  Drink  it  fur  Mammy,  boy — I  wants  de  grouns. 
I'm  gwine  tell  ye  somefin  when  I  looks  in  de 
cup.     I  seed  a  vision  las'  night." 

To  humour  her  John  drank  the  coffee  in  silence. 

She  took  the  empty  cup,  studied  its  message, 
and  looked  into  John's  face. 

"Yes,  honey,  hit's  des  lak  I  see  hit  las'  night, 
an'  I  warns  ye!  I  see  two  purty  gals — a  fair  one 
and  a  dark  one.  Bof  lubs  ye — but  dey's  one  er 
slippin  up  behind  yer  back  wid  a  shinin'  knife  in 
her  hand.  Her  long  black  hair  is  hangin'  loose 
on  her  white  shoulders  an'  all  twisted  lak  snakes. 
I  see  her  hide  de  knife  in  her  bosom  an'  slip  her 


A  VOICE  IN  WARNING  221 

arms  roun'  yo  neck.  She  kiss  you  an'  blindfold 
ye  wid  her  curly  hair  an'  slip  de  knife  from  her 
bosom  an'  stab  you  froo  de  heart!  Mammy's 
baby!  Mammy's  baby!" 

The  black  woman's  voice  sank  to  a  weird 
whisper  full  of  tears  and  wild  half-savage  music 
as  she  seized  John's  hand. 

"  Don't  come  to  de  house  no  mo,'  Marse  John !  " 
she  pleaded. 

"And  why  not?"  he  asked  sharply. 

"Case  I  look  again  in  de  vision  an'  I  see  her  face 
plain — an'  it  wuz  hers!" 

"Whose.?" 

"Miss  Stella,  honey — I  warns  ye!  she  doan 
lub  my  baby — keep  away  from  her!" 

"Rubbish,  Aunt  Julie  Ann;  you've  been  having 
a  nightmare." 

"  I  see  it  all,  des  ez  plain  ez  I  sees  you  now — I 
warns  ye!" 

*'ril  risk  it,"  John  laughed.  "I'm  hoping  for 
good  news  to-morrow — please  say  your  prayers 
for  me  to-night." 

Yet  in  spite  of  his  culture  and  the  inheritance 
of  centuries  of  knowledge,  the  voodoo  message  of 
his  old  nurse  shrouded  his  spirit  in  deeper  gloom. 
He  walked  home  with  a  new  sense  of  dread  in  his 
heart,  wondering  what  answer  she  would  send 
him  to-morrow. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE    TRAP    IS    SPRUNG 

THE  following  morning  when  Stella,  sitting 
up  in  bed,  opened  her  mail  and  read  Acker- 
man's  report,  the  last  doubt  of  John  Graham's 
guilt  was  shattered. 

"I  have  just  learned,"  Ackerman  wrote,  "that  a  number 
of  men  of  notoriously  desperate  character  from  the  foot  of 
the  mountains  were  in  Independence  on  the  day  before 
the  tragedy  and  that  a  man  by  the  name  of  Dan  Wiley, 
their  leader,  reported  in  person  to  John  Graham's  ofl5ce." 

Stella  sprang  from  her  bed  and  began  hurriedly 
to  dress. 

*'Now  God  give  me  strength  for  the  work  I'm 
going  to  do!"  she  cried,  with  strangling  rage. 
"To  think  that  such  a  man  should  dare  to  speak 
to  me  of  love — should  dare  to  clasp  my  hand  with 
the  stain  of  my  father's  blood  yet  fresh  on  his! 
I  could  kill  him  with  my  own  hand — coward, 
dastard,  sneak,  assassin!  I  hate  him — I  hate 
him!" 

She  threw  herself  on  her  bed  again  in  a  paroxysm 
of  uncontrollable  fury.  She  arose  at  length,  calm, 
alert,    her   cheeks    flushed   with    brilliant   colour, 

ZZ2 


THE  TRAP  IS  SPRUNG  223 

her  great  eyes  dilated  wide  and  sparkling  with 
courage. 

The  knocker  struck  sharply  and  she  remem- 
bered with  a  start  that  Steve  Hoyle  had  returned 
on  the  midnigSt  train  and  would  call  this  morning. 
She  heard  Maggie  show  Steve  into  the  library. 

Without  waiting  for  her  breakfast  she  hastened 
to  meet  him,  and  he  plunged  at  once  into  the 
purpose  of  his  call: 

"Has  John  Graham  yet  confessed  his  leader- 
ship?" 

"He  will  to-day,"  was  the  quiet  answer. 

"The  fame  of  your  desperate  love  affair  has  set 
the  town  agog,"  Steve  laughed  triumphantly. 

"Doubtless,"  she  replied  moodily. 

"  I've  everything  arranged — the  men  are  only 
waiting  for  the  word." 

"  I  prefer  that  the  law  take  its  course.  I'm 
not  ready  to  commit  murder,"  she  said 
emphatically. 

"Nonsense!  The  law's  a  farce — Deliver  him 
to  his  own  men  to  be  judged  by  the  Klan  which 
has  set  itself  above  the  State,  If  he  is  the  leader 
of  the  Invisible  Empire  he  holds^his  own  High 
Court.     Let  his  men  decide  his  fate.     It's  justice!" 

Stella  hesitated  a  moment  and  slowly  said: 

"When  I  learn  from  his  own  lips  that  he  is  the 
Chief  of  the  Klan  and  find  that  there  is  no  other 


224  THE  TRAITOR 

way  in  which  he  can  be  made  to  pay  the  penalty  of 
his  crime,  I'll  deliver  him  to  his  men." 

"They'll  be  ready  to  receive  him." 

*'I  shall  know  in  twenty-four  hours." 

"I'll  await  your  word,"  he  answered  eagerly, 
his  eyes  devouring  her  beauty. 

Steve  hurriedly  left  and  Stella  seated  herself 
at  her  desk  to  write  her  answer  to  John  Graham. 
Two  attempts  she  tore  up.  The  third  suited  her. 
In  the  centre  of  a  sheet  of  paper  she  wrote  two 
words: 

"Come— Stella." 

When  John  Graham  received  this  note  at 
eleven  o'clock  from  the  hands  of  her  messenger, 
he  felt  before  he  broke  the  seal  that  it  bore  glad 
tidings. 

He  tore  it  open  and  with  a  cry  of  joy,  tried  to 
read,  and  the  tears  blinded  him.  He  crushed  the 
note  in  his  hand  and  bowed  his  head  on  his  desk, 
his  whole  being  convulsed  with  emotion  which  he 
could  not  control.  He  rose  at  length,  walked  to 
his  window,  opened  the  note  again  and  gazed  at 
it  until  he  broke  into  a  joyous  laugh,  repeating 
the   words : 

"Come— Stella." 

"The  most  wonderful  letter  I  ever  received," 
he  exclaimed.  "  The  longest,  the  richest,  the  deep- 
est— the  answering  call  of  my  mate!     In  all  nature 


THE  TRAP  IS  SPRUNG  225 

there's  no  such  cry.     From  out  the  shadows  of 
hell  I  lift  my  soul  and  answer, '  My  love,  I  come ! ' " 

In  a  moment  he  had  forgotten  every  fear;  and 
all  the  pain,  blind  and  hideous,  of  the  last  three 
days  was  lost  in  a  joy  that  lit  the  world  with 
splendour. 

He  called  immediately  on  horseback  and  asked 
her  to  ride  with  him  through  a  beautiful  wooded 
road  he  had  long  wished  to  show  her.  Stella 
caught  the  echo  of  his  horse's  hoofs  with  a  shudder 
as  he  approached  the  house.  She  had  not  heard 
that  sound  on  the  gravelled  roadway  of  the  lawn 
since  the  night  she  listened  to  the  distant  echoes 
of  the  masqueraders  as  she  stood  beside  the  dead. 

She  accepted  his  suggestion  and  hastily  des- 
patched a  message  to  Ackerman  asking  that  he 
await  her  return  in  her  library  at  sundown  as  she 
intended  to  spend  the  afternoon  in  the  country  on 
important    business. 

At  three  o'clock  they  galloped  out  of  Indepen- 
dence toward  the  river. 

"My  heart  is  too  full  now  for  speech,"  he  said, 
leaning  toward  her,  his  face  radiant  with  happiness. 

"I  understand." 

"Just  to  be  near  you  is  all  I  ask  for  a  while. 
It  seems  too  good  to  be  true.  It  has  been  a 
century  since  I  saw  you." 

She  remained  silent.     The  only  visible  response, 


226  THE  TRAITOR 

if  any,  was  the  quickening  of  her  horse's  pace  at 
the  unconscious  touch  of  the  httle  spur  concealed 
beneath  her  skirts. 

Her  silence  meant  to  him  feelings  too  deep  for 
words,  and  again  his  heart  sang  for  joy. 

Four  miles  out  of  town  they  left  the  main  high- 
way and  turned  into  the  narrow  crooked  road  which 
wound  along  the  banks  of  a  creek  through  the 
densest  forest  in  the  county. 

"I'm  going  to  take  you  to  Tnwood,'  General 
Gaston's  place.  The  house  was  burned  by 
Sherman's  army,  only  the  vine-covered  ruins 
are  standing  now.  It  was  the  finest  house  ever 
built  in  the  state,  and  many  a  gay  party  held 
high  carnival  there  in  the  old  days." 

"I've  heard  my  mother  speak  of  it,"  she  an- 
swered soberly,  glancing  at  him  from  the  corner 
of  her  eye.  "  In  fact,  it  was  there  at  a  picnic 
one  day  that  my  father  proposed  to  his  sweet- 
heart and  my  mother  accepted  him,  and  planned 
their  elopement.  How  strange  that  you  should 
have  chosen  to  bring  me  to  this  place  to-day!" 

"You'll  understand  it  later,"  he  quickly 
responded. 

"I  hope  you  don't  mean  to  kidnap  me.?" 

"It  might  be  advisable  in  view  of  the  events  of 
the  past  three  days,"  he  laughed. 

She   glanced   about   her   at   the   deep   shadows 


THE  TRAP  IS  SPRUNG  227 

of  the  great  trees  through  which  they  had  been 
passing  for  more  than  a  mile  and  shot  at  him  a 
sudden  look  of  fear. 

"Let's  turn  back,"  she  said,  flushing  and  rein- 
ing her  horse  to  a  stand. 

A  look  of  pain  clouded  his  face  as  he  bent  near. 

"Surely,  dearest,  you  can  trust  the  man  who 
worships  you!  Come,  we  are  only  a  few  hundred 
yards  from  the  gate." 

"Then  I'll  trust  you  that  much  further,"  she 
said  with  a  light  laugh,  spurring  her  horse  forward. 

In  a  few  minutes  they  passed  through  the  ruined 
gate  in  the  edge  of  the  woods.  The  broken  marble 
figures  which  once  crowned  the  brick  pillars  lay 
beside  the  entrance  among  a  mass  of  tangled 
blackberry  briars.  They  had  been  pried  from 
their  places  and  hurled  there  by  the  bayonets  of 
Sherman's  men  and  had  not  been  touched  since. 

The  lawn,  which  once  had  spread  its  beautiful 
carpet  of  flowers  and  shrubbery  in  wide  acres  here 
in  the  heart  of  the  ancient  woods,  had  grown  up 
in  ugly  broom  straw  and  young  pines,  which  were 
slowly  strangling  to  death  the  more  delicate  forms 
of  life.  The  dark  fir  trees,  magnolia  and  holly, 
still  flourished  in  luxury. 

Towering  in  solemn,  serried  line  on  a  gentle 
eminence  still  stood  the  six  great  white  Corinthian 
pillars  of  the  front  facade  of  the  house.     Behind 


228  THE  TRAITOR 

them  in  dark  background  a  row  of  Norwegian 
firs,  fifty  years  old,  marked  the  sky  line.  The 
afternoon  sun  cast  the  shadows  of  the  trees  across 
the  fluted  marble  of  two  of  the  pillars,  while  the 
other  four  shimmered  in  the  splendour  of  the 
sunlight. 

The  capitals  of  the  columns  had  fallen  with 
the  blazing  ruins  of  the  house,  but  the  bases 
and  tall  beautiful  fluted  forms  of  each  were 
yet  perfect.  The  ivy  which  had  grown  on  the 
sides  of  the  stone  steps  had  climbed  in  unbridled 
riot  over  one  of  them  and  hung  in  graceful 
festoons  from  the  top. 

To  Stella's  fancy  they  seemed  grim  white  sen- 
tinels guarding  the  entrance  to  some  vast  empire 
of  the  dead. 

"How  still  and  death-like  everything  is,"  she 
said,  with  a  timid  glance  about  her.  *'We  seem 
a  thousand  miles  from  life." 

He  took  her  hand. 

"When  I  stand  by  your  side,  in  every  silent 
space  I  hear  the  beating  of  the  wings  of  angels." 

"The  wings  of  the  angel  of  Death  here,  I 
should  think!"  she  said  in  strange  subdued  tones, 
as  her  eyelids  drooped  and  she  looked  away. 

"Away  with  such  nonsense,"  he  cried,  cheerily. 
"I've  something  to  do  before  I  dare  to  speak  to 
you  again  of  the  love  that  is  in  my  heart." 


THE  TRAP  IS  SPRUNG  229 

He  led  her  behind  the  towering  columns,  and,  at 
the  rear  of  the  ruins  of  the  heavy  brick  walls, 
entered  the  basement  by  a  stairway  half  covered 
with  fallen  debris. 

The  floors  of  the  first  story  which  had  been 
constructed  of  iron  and  cement  foundations  had 
remained  unbroken.  The  basement,  once  entered 
below  the  ruins,  was  in  a  state  of  perfect 
preservation. 

They  entered  the  immense  kitchen  whose  walls 
had  once  echoed  with  the  voices  of  swarms  of 
indolent  well-fed  slaves. 

Stella  looked  about  her  in  amazement,  asking 
with  a  slight  tremor  in  her  voice: 

"Why  have  you   brought  me  here.?" 

*'To  place  my  life  in  your  hands,  joyously,  with- 
out a  single  reservation,"  he  said  with  deep 
earnestness.  "You  are  in  the  council  chamber  of 
the  Invisible  Empire.  Here  its  High  Court  of 
Life  and  Death  was  held." 

Stella's  breath  quickened  and  she  glanced  at 
John   with   furtive   eyes. 

*'I  should  have  told  you  frankly  at  first.  You 
had  the  right  to  know  before  you  gave  your  life 
into  my  keeping." 

He  led  her  to  the  big  wrought-iron  range  and 
opened  one  of  its  ovens,  revealing  the  form  of  an 
old-fashioned  safe. 


230  THE  TRAITOR 

Taking  a  huge  key  from  his  pocket,  he  opened 
the  door  and  drew  from  it  a  package  of  papers. 

"I  am  going  to  show  you,  my  love,  what  no 
woman's  eye  ever  saw  before,  the  guarded  secrets 
of  the  Invisible  Empire,  its  signs,  passwords, 
ritual  and  secret  oath.  In  this  act  I  now  imperil 
no  life  save  my  own." 

Stella's  tapering  fingers  trembled  as  she  turned 
the  pages  nervously  and  read  its  brief  formulas. 

"As  Chief  of  the  Klan  I  met  here  the  leaders 
from  each  district." 

"Then — you — are — the — Chief.?"  she  slowly 
asked,  bending  low  to  hide  her  flushed  face. 

"Yes,  I  was  the  only  Chief  the  Empire  ever 
had  in  the  state,"  he  answered  with  a  ring  of 
boyish  pride. 

"And  you  bowed  to  no  law  save  your  own.?" 
she  asked  in  low  tones. 

"No." 

"And  you  really  did  hold  high  courts  of  life 
and  death.?"  she  whispered. 

"Yes,  we  were  the  sole  guardians  of  white 
civilisation.  It  was  a  necessity — the  last  resort 
of   desperation." 

"You  tried  men  here  in  secret,  sentenced  them 
without  a  hearing,  executed  them  at  night  v»^ithout 
warning,  mercy  or  appeal?" 

"It  had  to   be — there  was   no  other  way.     A 


THE  TRAP  IS  SPRUNG  231 

million  soldiers  girded  us  with  their  bayonets. 
We  had  to  strike  under  a  mantle  of  darkness  and 
terror,  where  the  power  of  resistance  was  weakest, 
the  blow  unsuspected  and  discovery  impossible." 

"How  terrible!"  she  interrupted  with  a  shud- 
der. "And  yet,"  she  went  on  with  a  sudden 
flash  of  her  eye,  "its  mystery  and  its  daring  fas- 
cinate me!  Would  you  do  something  just  to 
please  a  romantic  fancy  of  mine  ?" 

"I  have  but  one  desire  in  life — to  please  your 
fancy,"    he   cried. 

"Come  here  with  me  again,  day  after  to-morrow 
night,  and  dress  in  your  costume  as  Chief  of  the 
High  Court  of  the  Klan.  Bring  some  lanterns 
and  we'll  Hght  it  up — it's  just  a  fancy  of  mine — 
will  you   do  it  ?" 

"You're  not  afraid  to  be  here  alone  with  me 
at  night  ?" 

"Why  should  I?  I  love  to  do  daring  uncon- 
ventional things.  Besides,  do  we  not  belong  to 
each  other  now?" 

"You  do  love  me?"  he  whispered. 

"Do  you  doubt  it?" 

"Kiss  me!"  he  pleaded,  bending  closer. 

With  a  sudden  shudder  she  drew  away. 

"Not  yet!  you  must  be  patient.  I've  a  lot 
of  silly  notions.  That's  one  of  them.  I'll  learn, 
no  doubt." 


232  THE  TRAITOR 

"I'll  try  to  teach  you,"  he  laughed — "and  be 
content  to  touch  your  hand  until  my  desire  shall 
be  yours." 

They  rode  swiftly  home,  John's  soul  in  a  warm 
glow  of  happiness.  Stella  spoke  scarcely  a  word, 
but  her  cheeks  were  flushed  and  about  her  deep 
brown  eyes  a  curious  smile  was  constantly  playing. 

He  left  her  at  the  door  and  as  he  pressed  her 
hand  softly  said: 

"You  scarcely  spoke  the  whole  way  home — 
tell  me  what  were  you  thinking  about  .f"' 

"  I  don't  know — perhaps  dreaming  of  your 
terrible  court — of  a  man  being  condemned  to 
death   without   knowing  it!'* 

"Yet  a  smile  was  playing  about  your  beautiful 
face?" 

Stella     suddenly     burst     into     half    hysterical  ^ 
laughter: 

"Of  course,  how  can  you  doubt  that  I  was  happy! 
I'll  tell  you  all  my  thoughts  to-morrow  night." 

"Shall  we  go  on   horseback?" 

"Yes,  but  I  wish  to  go  alone;  I'll  meet  you 
there  at  dusk,"  she  replied  with  another  strange 
laugh,  waving  her  hand  as  he  mounted  his  horse 
and   galloped   away. 

She  closed  the  door  and  with  quick  nervous 
step,  crossed  the  hall  and  passed  into  the  library, 
confronting  Ackerman. 


THE  TRAP  IS  SPRUNG  233 

"John  Graham  Is  the  Chief  of  the  Ku  Klux 
Klan — he  has  confessed  to  me!"  she  whispered 
excitedly.  "I  have  arranged  everything  for  his 
arrest  day  after  to-morrow  evening  at  their  secret 
meeting  place." 

"Then  our  work  is  complete,"  he  said  with  a 
ring  of  triumph. 

"And  his  execution  is  a  certainty  ?" 

"I  haven't  the  remotest  idea  that  Graham 
himself  can  ever  be  convicted  of  the  murder  of 
Judge  Butler — but  your  discovery  is  of  tremendous 
importance." 

"He — cannot — be — convicted!"    Stella   gasped. 

"No,  but  the  Invisible  Empire  will  be  in  ruins 
in  forty-eight  hours,"  he  replied,  seizing  his  hat. 
"  Excuse  me  now,  I  have  v^^ork  of  the  gravest 
importance  to-night.  Thanks  for  the  promptness 
with  which  you  have  kept  your  promise." 

Before  Stella  could  speak  he  was  gone.  With 
a  scowl  on  her  beautiful  brow,  she  called  Maggie: 

"Tell  Mr.  Steve  Hoyle  I  wish  to  see  him  here 
immediately." 


CHAPTER  XIII 


FOR   love's    sake 


STEVE'S  response  to  Stella's  call  was  prompt. 
He  entered  the  library  with  heavy,  firm 
step,  a  flush  of  triumph  on  his  sleek  handsome 
animal  face. 

*'He  has  betrayed  the  Klan  to  you  ?"  he  asked 
with    eagerness. 

*'Sit  down,"  she  responded  coolly,  an  accent  of 
resentment  rising  in  her  voice.  Before  I  answer 
that  important  question,  I've  something  I  wish  to 
ask  you." 

"Anything  you  like,"  he  answered  suavely. 

"And  I  want  the  truth,"  she  continued,  with 
increasing  emphasis. 

"I'll  give  it  to  you  if  it's  in  my  power." 

"You  haven't  done  it  always,"  was  the  firm 
retort. 

"You  wish  to  know  about  the  men  on  whom  I 
rely  to  execute  justice  on  John  Graham  ?" 

"Yes,  who  are  they  ^" 

"Members  of  the  Klan  from  the  hills — innocent 
men  on  whom  he  wreaked  his  vengeance  in  the 
most  brutal  and  inhuman  manner  without  a  trial. " 

234 


FOR  LOVE'S  SAKE  235 

"You  are  sure  they  are  members  of  the  Klan  ?" 

"Certainly." 

"They  will  come  to  arrest  and  try  :iim,  dressed 
in  the  same  costumes  the  men  wore  the  night  my 
father  was  killed  ? " 

"Yes." 

"  Have  you  hired  these  men  to  assassinate  him  ? " 
she  suddenly  asked,  piercing  Steve  with  her  great 
eyes. 

"My  God,  no!"  he  protested. 

"What  will  they  do?" 

"Why,  try  him  by  his  own  laws,  of  course," 
Steve  answered  vaguely. 

"What   laws?" 

"  The  law  of  the  Order  which  forbids  an  officer 
to  abuse  his  power  by  using  it  for  personal  ends  as 
he  did  in  the  murder  of  the  Judge." 

"Why  have  they  not  tried  him  before  ?" 

"The  feehng  against  him  was  not  strong 
enough." 

"And  now?" 

"  If  he  has  betrayed  the  Klan,  by  his  own  laws 
he  can  be  torn  limb  from  Hmb,  so  long  as  a  shred 
of  its  power  remains." 

"He  could  not  be  put  to  death  for  telling  the 
secrets  of  the  Klan  to  the  woman  he  loves  ?" 

"Yes." 

"And  he  knows  this  ?" 


236  THE  TRAITOR 

*'Of  course." 

"A  big,  glorious,  beautiful  thing,  a  love  like 
that,  isn't  it?"  she  cried  with  strange  elation, 
tears  flashing  from  her  eyes. 

"From  the  woman's  point  of  view,  perhaps  it 
is — from  that  of  the  man  whose  life  he  puts  in 
peril,  hardly." 

*'But  from  the  woman's  point  of  view!  yes — 
and  judged  by  her  standard,  cowards  who  hedge 
and  lie  and  fear  to  do  such  things  don't  measure 
very  high  beside  him — do  they .?  I'm  afraid, 
Steve,  your  love  is  a  weak  thing.  It  would  be  a 
pity  to  kill  a  man  who  would  dare  death  to  please 
the  fancy  of  the  woman  he  loves — now,  wouldn't 
it?" 

"Such  a  man,  for  example,  as  he  who  sneaked 
under  cover  of  the  night  and  struck  your  father 
dead  at  your  feet  without  a  chance  to  defend  him- 
self," Steve  sneered. 

"Yes!  That's  the  hideous  thought  that 
strangles  me!"  she  cried,  her  breast  heavino- 
with  a  tumult  of  emotion,  her  breath  coming  in 
gasps  of  passion. 

"You  are  going  to  falter  and  give  up?"  he 
asked  indignantly. 

Stella  ignored  his  question  and  said  in  even  tones 
as  though  talking  to  herself: 

"I    had   intended    to    have   the   United    States 


FOR  LOVE'S  SAKE  237 

marshals  arrest  him  dressed  in  the  Klan  costume 
at  their  meeting  place." 

"And  now?"  Steve  broke  in  eagerly. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  do.  I'll  be  frank  with 
you,  Steve — I  never  expected  to  keep  my  promise 
to  marry  you — I  never  really  expected  to  face 
such  a  choice.  There  are  times  when  I  like  you. 
There's  evil  in  me,  as  there  is  in  you— cruelty, 
pride,  selfishness — I  feel  our  kinship.  But  I 
don't  love  you,  and  the  closer  I  get  to  you  the  less 
I  love  you." 

"You'll  learn  to  love  me — I'll  wait,"  he  broke  in. 

"The  reason  why  I  like  you  less  and  less,"  she 
went  on,  "is  that  I  feel  other  forces  in  me  which 
are  not  evil — big,  generous  impulses,  and  aspira- 
tions for  things  beautiful  and  true  and  good  that 
you  have  never  felt  and  could  never  under- 
stand." 

"Which  some  other  man  might  develop,"  he 
snapped.  "Well,  play  the  baby  act  then,  and 
give  it  all  up." 

"No,  I've  made  up  my  mind  to  have  the  life 
of  the  man  who  took  my  father's.  It's  the  one 
supreme  passion  which   dominates   my  soul  and 

body." 

"He  has  confessed  to  you  then?"  Steve  cried 
breathlessly. 

iS. 


"Ye?  " 


238  THE  TRAITOR 

"Where  will  the  men  meet  you  ?" 

"At  Inwood  immediately  after  dark,  day 
after  to-morrow,"  she  answered   firmly. 

"It's  too  early.  Nine  o'clock  is  better.  The 
men  will  have  time  for  careful  preparation." 

"I'll  be  with  him  in  the  basement.  He  will  be 
in  the  Klan  costume;  I  wish  him  arrested  and 
tried  in  that." 

"It  shall  be  exactly  as  you  wish,"  said  Steve, 
his  eyes  sparkling  with  triumph.  "And  your 
signal  to  the  men?" 

Will  be  a  light  in  the  window  of  the  basement." 
I  understand — Inwood — nine  o'clock  at  night, 
day  after  to-morrow." 

Stella's  answer  was  scarcely  a  whisper: 

"Yes." 


n  ■ 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE   JUDGMENT   HALL   OF   FATE 

STELLA  made  excuses  to  John  Graham  for 
not  being  able  to  see  him  before  their 
appointment  to  meet  at  Inwood,  and  on  the  after- 
noon of  the  day  fixed  rode  out  of  town  at  four 
o'clock  alone. 

Her  unconventional  ways  had  ceased  to  excite 
comment  in  Independence  since  her  extraordi- 
nary conduct  in  refusing  to  wear  mourning  for  her 
father.  There  could  be  no  graver  breach  of  the 
traditions  of  good  society  than  this  in  the  eyes  of 
her  neighbours,  and  so  long  as  she  remained 
within  the  pale  of  respectabihty  any  other  feat  she 
might  perform  would   be  of  minor  interest. 

She  rode  rapidly,  her  mind  in  a  tumult  of  excite- 
ment over  the  daring  act  of  revenge  she  meant  to 
wreak  to-night  on  the  man  who  had  wronged  her 
beyond  the  power  of  human  forgiveness.  Single- 
handed  and  alone  she  had  mastered  his  will  and 
brought  him  to  her  feet.  Single-handed  and 
alone  she  had  decided  the  question  of  his  life  and 
death.     And    this   afternoon    she   wished    to   ride 

alone  to  the  place  appointed  for  his  judgment. 

239 


240  THE  TRAITOR 

In  spite  of  her  resolution  to  mete  out  the  sternest 
justice  to  John  Graham,  the  memory  of  his  passion- 
ate words  of  love,  the  deep  tenderness  with  which 
he  had  hovered  about  her,  and  the  utter  trust  he 
had  shown  during  their  last  meeting,  began  to 
torment  her. 

Had  they  met  under  fair  conditions  she  could 
have  loved  him.  She  began  to  see  it  clearly  now. 
His  sincerity,  his  fiery  emotions,  his  romantic 
extravagances,  the  old-fashioned  chivalry  with 
which  he  worshipped  her  were  very  sweet.  The 
complete  and  generous  surrender  he  had  made, 
placing  his  life  absolutely  in  her  hands,  began  to 
glow  with  poetry  in  her  imagination. 

He  had  always  possessed  the  faculty  of  drawing 
out  the  best  that  was  in  her.  Somehow  she  had 
never  been  able  to  hate  him  as  she  ought  in  his 
presence.  There  was  something  contagious  in 
the  spirit  of  love  with  which  his  whole  personality 
seemed  to  radiate.  She  had  begun  to  feel  at  home 
with  him  as  with  no  other  man  she  had  ever  met. 

*'  Oh,  dear,  I'm  sorry ! "  she  sighed,  as  she  entered 
the  deep  woods.  Unconsciously  she  reined  her 
horse  to  a  stand,  and  was  startled  from  her  reverie 
by  a  tear  rolling  down  her  cheek  and  falling  on  her 
glove.  "What  a  fool  I  am!"  she  cried  in  anger. 
*'  I'd  better  turn  back  now.  I'm  a  chicken-hearted 
coward  when  put  to  the  test.     I'm  scared  out  of 


THE  JUDGMENT  HALL  OF  FATE  241 

my  senses  at  the  size  of  the  task  I've  undertaken — 
that's  what's  the  matter — I,  who  have  boasted  of 
my  strength  and  shouted  my  triumph  over  a  strong 
man's  conquest." 

Another  tear  rolled  down  her  cheek.  She 
brushed  it  away  with  an  angry  stroke. 

*' Suppose  I  find  too  late  that  I'm  in  love  with 
him!"   she   exclaimed,    helplessly. 

Her  horse  moved  on  without  her  urging  or 
recognising  it,  so  absorbed  had  she  become  in  the 
battle  raging  within  her  heart. 

"What  is  love.?"  she  mused  aloud.  "I  wonder 
how  it  feels  to  really  love  ? — Love  him  ? — nonsense 
— I  hate  the  very  ground  he  walks  on — the  self- 
centred,  proud,  bigoted,  narrow-minded  fan- 
atic! I've  sworn  to  avenge  my  father's  death.  I'll 
do  it.  Let  him  come  to-night  to  the  judgment 
hall  of  his  own  making.  I'll  prove  myself  a  woman, 
and  do  my  country  a  service  when  I  hand  him  over 
to  justice." 

She  touched  her  horse  with  the  whip,  and  he 
bounded  forward  in  a  swift  gallop,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  she  passed  into  the  old  lawn  and  saw  the 
flash  of  the  white  ghost-like  columns  among  the 
dark  firs. 

Again  she  found  herself  recalling  the  silly 
extravagances  of  his  talk  as  they  entered  the 
grounds  two  days  before. 


242  THE  TRAITOR 

"What  was  it  he  said  about  angels  ?"  she  mused 
with  a  smile.  "Yes,  I  remember.  Somehow  I 
seem  to  remember  them  all! — 'When  I  stand  by 
your  side,  in  every  silent  space  I  hear  the  beating 
of  the  wings  of  angels' — and  I  hked  it!  what  a 
fool  a  woman  is!  and  tried  to  convince  myself 
that  I  didn't  like  it  by  adding,  'the  wings  of  the 
angel  of  death,'  only  because  I  felt  my  hate  grow 
weak  under  a  silly  compliment — well,  I'm  done 
with  his  maudHn  love-making.  It's  judgment 
day." 

She  dismounted,  tied  her  horse,  and  wandered 
down  the  little  crooked  pathway  to  the  famous 
spring  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  where  many  a  lover  had 
lingered  in  days  long  past  and  poured  out  the  old 
story  that  remains  eternal  in  its  youth.  She 
wondered  at  the  mad  resolution  of  her  mother, 
taken  perhaps  on  this  very  spot  twenty-five  years 
ago,  that  had  led  her  to  break  the  bonds  of  blood, 
throw  to  the  winds  every  tie  of  tenderness  that 
bound  her  to  the  earth,  and  brave  the  scorn  of  her 
own  proud  world,  all  for  the  sake  of  the  son  of  a 
poor  white  man — because  she  loved  him! 

Why  did  people  do  such  idiotic  things  ?  Why 
should  a  woman  thus  sink  her  soul  and  body  in 
the  fortunes  of  a  man  ?  She  couldn't  understand  it. 

"Surely  this  is  the  miracle  of  miracles  of  human 
life!"  she  murmured.     "I  wonder  if  John  Graham 


THE  JUDGMENT  HALL  OF  FATE  243 

was  crazy  when  he  said  that  night  on  the  lawn: 
'  If  you  should  send  me  from  your  presence  now, 
I'd  laugh  at  Death,  for  I  have  tasted  Life!'  Why 
do  I  keep  thinking  of  what  he  has  said  ? — Perhaps 
because  he  may  die  to-night!" 

She  sprang  to  her  feet,  clasped  her  hands  nerv- 
ously and  began  to  cry — softly  at  first,  and  then 
with  utter  abandonment,  sinking  again  to  the 
ground  and  burying  her  face  in  her  arm. 

"Oh,  dear!  oh,  dear!  I'm  lonely  and  heartsick 
and  afraid!"  she  sobbed.  I  wish  I  had  a  friend 
to  share  my  secret,  advise  and  help  me — ^yes,  such 
a  friend  as  he  would  be! — he'd  know  what  I  ought 
to  do — and  I  know  what  he'd  say,  too — that  I'm 
proud  and  cruel  and  selfish — that  I'm  doing  a 
hideous,  unnatural  thing — ^well  I'm  not!  the 
impulse  for  vengeance  is  God's  first  law — I  know  it 
because  I  feel  it,  deep,  instinctive,  resistless! — and 
I'm  going  to  do  it!  I'm  going  to  do  it! — I  hate  him! 
I  hate  him!" 

She  rose  and  returned  to  the  ruins,  and  sat  down 
on  the  steps  between  the  white  columns.  The  sun 
was  sinking  through  an  ocean  of  filmy  clouds, 
reflecting  in  rapid  changes  every  colour  ever 
dreamed  in  the  soul  of  the  artist.  She  watched 
in  deep  breathless  reverence,  until  the  sense  of 
loneliness  again  overpowered  her  and  she  sprang 
up  with  restless  energy  exclaiming: 


244  THE  TRAITOR 

"  I  meant  to  explore  that  room  before  he  comes — 
I  must  do  it." 

She  descended  the  steps  and  stopped  before  the 
dark  entrance.  It  hadn't  seemed  so  dark  the  other 
day  with  him.  It  was  earHer  in  the  day  of  course. 
Why  had  she  paused  ?  The  question  angered  her. 
She  was  afraid  to  go  through  the  long  dark  corridor 
alone — that  was  the  disgusting  truth. 

She  turned  back  to  await  his  coming.  What  a 
foolish  contradiction.  She  would  wait  for  the 
protection  of  the  wretch  she  meant  to  deliver 
to-night  to — death! 

She  returned  with  quick  angry  strides  to  the 
columns,  and  leaned  against  one  of  their  friendly 
sides.  In  the  gathering  twilight  they  seemed 
human  and  sheltering  in  their  protection.  She 
wished  he  would  come.  A  dozen  times  she  looked 
toward  the  gate  and  thought  she  heard  the  beat 
of  his  horse's  hoof  in  the  distance. 

Dusk  settled  into  darkness  and  still  he  did  not 
come.  The  moon  rose  and  touched  the  tall 
pillars  above  with  a  magic  glow  of  mellow  light, 
and  a  whip-poor-will  struck  the  first  note  of  his 
thrilling  song  beneath  the  bush  at  her  feet. 

With  a  shudder,  she  moved  to  the  outer  column 
and  waited  with  increasing  impatience  and  alarm. 
The  wildest  fears  began  to  fill  her  fancy.  Why 
had   she   dared   this   mad   task   alone  ^  For  some 


THE  JUDGMENT  HALL  OF  FATE  245 

unaccountable  reason  she  had   not  reckoned  on 
being  alone. 

Was  it  possible  that  she  had  been  so  illogical, 
so  utterly  bereft  of  reason  that  the  idea  of  his  com- 
panionship had  filled  her  imagination  ?  Surely 
she  had  not  been  such  a  fool!  She  knew  Steve 
Hoyle  would  accompany  those  men,  beyond  a 
doubt,  and  join  her  after  the  affair  was  over,  but 
she  had  not  given  Steve  a  thought.  He  had  been 
but  a  cog  in  the  wheel  of  things  that  had  swiftly 
moved  to  the  tragic  crisis  which  she  now  faced  for 
the  first  time.  She  looked  at  her  watch  in  the 
bright  moonHght  and  it  was  half  past  eight.  What 
if  he  failed  to  come!  Would  she  be  glad  or  angry  .? 
The  tumult  of  feeling  had  reached  a  point  of 
intensity  that  paralysed  her  powers  of  reasoning — 
she  didn't  know,  A  single  sense  remained,  the 
consciousness  of  chilling  loneliness. 

With  a  throb  of  joy  she  caught  at  last  the  quick 
hoof-beat  of  John's  horse  sweeping  through  the 
gateway  in  a  furious  gallop. 

He  leaped  to  the  ground,  and  hurried  to  her 
side. 

"I'm  awfully  sorry!"  he  cried,  seizing  both  her 
hands  with  eager  tenderness.  "A  most  unex- 
pected thing  occurred  which  delayed  me  thirty 
minutes.  I'll  explain  to  you  later.  Come,  I'm 
hungry  to  see  your  dear  face  in  the  light  of  these 


246  THE  TRAITOR 

lanterns  in  that  gloomy  old  room  below.  I've 
a  thousand  things  to  tell  you.  Life  will  be  too 
short  a  time  in  which  to  tell  it  all.  I  hope  you've 
been  very  lonely  and  hungry  for  me  to  come  V 

"I  must  confess,  my  heart  began  to  fail  me  once 
or  twice,"  she  said  seriously,  while  he  felt  her  hand 
trembling. 

He  stooped  to  light  a  lantern,  and  she  caught  his 
arm. 

"Wait,  not  yet — the  moon  is  shining  brightly — 
we  don't  need  it." 

"But  you'll  stumble  on  those  dark  stairs  in  the 
corridor." 

"No  matter,  wait,"  she  urged  nervously;  "I'll 
hold  your  arm — you  know  the  way." 

"Yes,  I  know  the  w^ay,"  he  laughed.  "Come 
then,  your  slightest  whim  is  law." 

He  drew  her  little  hand  through  his  arm  and 
picking  his  steps  carefully,  led  her  down  through 
the  tano-led  debris  and  along  the  dark  corridor 
without  once  stumbling,  the  timid  figure  clinging 
close  to  his  side. 

"You  see  a  revolutionist  soon  learns  to  find  his 
way  in  the  dark  without  a  light,"  he  said,  as  they 
emerged  into  the  kitchen  whose  wide  space  was 
lighted  by  the  moonbeams  streaming  through  the 
windows. 

He  released  her  arm,  placed  the  lantern  and  a 


THE  JUDGMENT  HALL  OF  FATE  247 

bundle  he  carried  on  the  top  of  the  range,  and  said 
with  a  laugh: 

"Now,  shall  the  actor  make  up  for  his  part? 
I've  the  costume  all  ready.  This  is  the  palace  of 
the  queen  to-night.  I  have  been  commanded  to 
appear  before  her!" 

She  gave  no  answer. 

He  bent  and  kissed  her  hand  and  found  it  cold 
and  trembling  violently. 

"You  feel  the  chill  of  this  old  basement,"  he 
said  with  tender  solicitude.  "  I'll  light  the  lantern 
at  once." 

She  caught  his  hand. 

"No!  No! — I — prefer  it  like  this — the  moon- 
light is  enough." 

"All  right,"  he  answered  gaily.  "Shall  I  don 
my  robes  as  ruler  of  the  Invisible  Empire  to  please 
the  fancy  of  Your  Majesty  ?" 

He  opened  the  bundle  and  shook  out  the  long 
white  ulster-like  disguise  with  its  double  cross  of 
scarlet  and   gold. 

"Put  it  back — I'm  not  ready  yet!"  she  gasped. 

"You'll  laugh  and  chat  a  while  with  the  audience 
before  the  curtain  goes  up  on  the  drama! — good! 
I've  a  lot  to  say.  Sit  here  in  the  window  while  I 
tell  you  something." 

He  led  her  to  the  Iovn^  casement  of  the  window 
and  seated  her  by  his  side. 


248  THE  TRAITOR 

She  sprang  to  her  feet  instantly,  grasping  at  her 
heart,  her  breath  coming  in  quick  gasps: 
"What's  that!— Listen!" 
He  took  her  hand  soothingly: 
"Why,   it's   only  our   horses   neighing  to   each 
other." 

"You're    sure?"    she    whispered. 
"Of  course." 

"I  thought  it  was  something  else,"  she  faltered. 
"  My  poor  little  darling!    This  has  been  too  much 
for  your  nerves — you  should  have  allowed  me  to 
come  with  you." 

"Yes,  I'm  afraid  I  did  make  a  mistake!"  she 
said  in  low  strained  tones. 

"Well,  there's  nothing  to  be  afraid  of  now — is 
there.?"  he  said  assuringly. 

"No!  there's  nothing  to  be  afraid  of  now — is 
there?"    she    laughed    hysterically,  and  suddenly 
stopped  with  a  suppressed  scream. 
"My  darling!"  he  exclaimed. 
"Listen!  Listen!  My  God,  what's  that?" 
"It's  nothing  dear." 
"It  is!  Listen!  I  hear  them  coming!" 
"Impossible,  my    child,    we're    all    here!"    he 
laughed.  "How  could  you  guess  there  was  anyone 
coming  except  you   and   me?" 

"Oh,  dear,  you  don't  understand,  and  I  can't 
explain!"  she  went  on  frantically.  She  looked 
at  her  watch  and  couldn't  see. 


THE  JUDGMENT  HALL  OF  FATE  249 

"Ouick,  strike  a  match  and  see  what  time  it 
is — we  can  get  away!"  she  whispered. 

He  struck  the  match  and  saw  her  eyes  gleaming 
with  a  strange  madness.  Stella  blew  the  match 
out,  seized  his  arm  and  drew  him  from  the 
window. 

"Not  there — by  the  window — over  here  in  this 
corner." 

"He  struck  another  match  and  she  masked  its 
light  from  the  window,  staring  with  wide-set  eyes 
at  the  hands  of  her  watch. 

"It's  half  past  nine.  It's  too  late!"  she  said 
hopelessly. 

"Come,  come,  my  darling,  remember  that  I  am 
by  your  side — nothing  can  harm  you  except  the 
tongue  of  gossip,  and  you've  shown  your  contempt 
for  that.  Sit  down  here  again  in  the  moonlight 
and  let  me  tell  you  the  story  of  my  love." 

He  led  her  back  to  the  window  and  she  sank 
tremblingly  by  his  side. 

"  I've  never  had  the  chance  to  tell  you,"  he  began, 
with  low  passionate  tenderness,  "what  a  wonder- 
ful thing  your  love  has  been  in  my  life.  The 
night  I  met  you,  I  went  to  your  house  drunk,  with 
murder  in  my  heart,  determined  to  use  the  lawless 
power  I  wielded  to  crush  your  father.  I  was  about 
to  leave  with  a  threat  to  kill  him  on  my  lips.  It 
was  no  idle  threat  then.     I  had  entered  the  vault, 


250  THE  TRAITOR 

pushed  open  its  massive  door,  stepped  inside  and 
saw  the  way  was  open." 

"The  night  you  came  first,  you  entered  alone 
the  secret  way?"  she  interrupted. 

"Yes,  I  meant  to  use  it  if  necessary. " 

"But  you  never  did!  You  never  did!"  she 
whispered. 

"How  could  I,  dearest!  I  saw  your  face  that 
night  for  the  first  time,  heard  the  low  music  of 
your  voice,  touched  your  hand,  and  I  was  a  new 
man!  Love,  not  hate,  has  ruled  me  since.  I  dis- 
banded the  Klan  immediately  and  ordered  my  men 
never  again  to  use  its  power." 

"Disbanded  the  Klan!"  she  repeated  with 
choking  surprise. 

"Yes,  and  a  dastard  reorganised  it  as  a  local 
order  to  further  his  low  ambitions.  I've  done  my 
best  to  hold  in  check  their  crimes  and  follies.  I 
warned  your  father  of  danger  the  night  those  fools 
came.  In  a  madness  of  love,  fear  and  jealous  rage 
I  came  down  to  the  house,  sat  there  in  dumb  pain 
and  watched  your  beautiful  form  whirl  past  the 
lighted  window  until  I  could  endure  it  no  longer." 

Stella  strangled  a  sob. 

"I've  reproached  myself  a  hundred  times  I 
didn't  prevent  that  masquerade  by  force.  I  might 
have  done  it.  I  had  some  faithful  old  soldiers 
from  the  foothills  in  town  that  day  whom  I  had 


THE  JUDGMENT  HALL  OF  FATE  251 

used   to   capture  the   scoundrels  who   committed 
the  outrage  on  old  Nicaroshinski." 

"Hush!  hush!  before  I  scream!"  Stella  cried  in 
anguish,  placing  her  hand  on  his  lips. 

Suddenly  a  white  figure  stood  before  the  window 
and  his  whistle  rang  through  the  still  night. 

Stella  sprang  to  her  feet  gasping,  with  horror: 

"My    God!  they've    come:  I    must    save    you!  ' 
Hide!  Hide  and  give  me  your  revolver — they  shall 
not  take  you — quick — quick — hide!" 

"  But,  my  dear,  there's  not  the  slightest  danger. 
No  man  who  wears  that  uniform  will  lift  his  hand 
against  me — see,  I'm  going  to  answer  his  call  with 
my   own    signal." 

He  Hfted  the  whistle  to  his  lips  and  she  snatched 
it  from  his  grasp. 

"Don't!  Don't  for  God's  sake,  don't!  you  don't 
understand — Oh! — John — darling — I  love  you!  I 
love   you!" 

She  threw  herself  into  his  arms  and  kissed  him, 
passionately  sobbing. 

"  Fve  tried  to  hate  you,  dear,  but  I  couldn't — I 
couldn't — I  know  now  Fve  loved  you  always! 
I  must  save  you,  God  help  me!" 

"Well,  sir.?"  called  a  voice  without. 

"It's  all  right!  Come  in,  boys!"  he  answered 
before  Stella  could  stop  him.  She  huddled  in  his 
arms  paralysed  for  the  moment  with  terror. 


252  THE  TRAITOR 

"You  must  not! — they  will  kill  you,  dear!  "she 
moaned  in  agony. 

"Nonsense,  child,  the  boys  have  only  a  little 
surprise   for   us." 

Their  feet  were  already  echoing  in  the  corridor 
and  their  voices  could  be  heard  in  whispers  and  low 
laughter. 

"Hide!  please,  for  the  love  of  God!"  she 
gasped.  With  sudden  fierce  strength  she  pressed 
him  into  the  shadows  and  stood  panting  before 
him,  while  the  silent  ghost-like  figures  ranged 
themselves  solemnly  around  the  room. 

"  Stella,  my  dear,  you  must  not  suffer  like  this — 
there  is  no  danger,  these  are  all  my  men." 

"Your  men! — your  men!"  she  cried,  bewildered. 

"Yes,  I  brought  them  here  to-night  in  full 
costume  to  make  a  little  play  complete  for  the  fancy 
of  a  queen!" 

"My  darling,"  she  sobbed,  sinking  in  his  arms. 

"We  unexpectedly  met  some  ugly  customers 
from  the  hills  we  had  seen  once  before.  A  little 
pitched  battle  delayed  us  thirty  minutes,  but  none 
of  our  boys  were  hurt." 

"Kiss   me!"   she   whispered. 

A  distant  whistle  rang  through  the  woods  and  the 
picket  outside  answered. 

"What's  that?"  Stella  gasped. 

"He  blew  the  signal,  'message   for   the   Chief; 


THE  JUDGMENT  HALL  OF  FATE    253 

he's  from  town,  Fm  afraid,"  John  answered 
slowly. 

A  horse's  hoof  echoed  on  the  flagstones  before 
the  columns,  and  in  a  moment  the  picket  rushed 
to  the  window. 

"Bad  news,  sir!" 

"What  is  it?"  John  asked  quietly: 

"A  regiment  of  United  States  cavalry  shpped 
into  town  just  after  dark." 

"  Fve  been  looking  for  it,"  John  broke  in. 
"Well?" 

"A  squadron  has  surrounded  Mrs.  Wilson's 
boarding  house  to  wait  for  you." 

"Merciful  God!  what  have  I  done!"  Stella 
sobbed  inaudibly. 

John  touched  her  hand  soothingly  at  the  sound 
of  her  sob,  bent  low  and  whispered  tenderly: 

"It's  all  right — dearest — ^you  love  me!" 


Book  III — Prisoner  and  Traitor 
CHAPTER  I 

THE    ARREST 

THE  news  of  the  arrival  of  the  regiment  of 
cavalry,  and  the  sv^ift  silent  way  in  which 
they  had  struck  their  first  blow,  brought  to  John 
Graham  at  once  a  sharp  realisation  of  the  danger 
of  his  men. 

Releasing  Stella,  he  turned  to  the  white  figures 
gathered  in  an  excited  group  and  in  short  sharp 
accents  said: 

"  I  thank  you  boys  for  your  kindness  in  coming 
to  the  httle  masquerade  we  had  prepared  to  cele- 
brate the  announcement  of  my  engagement  to 
the  woman  who  is  the  queen  of  my  heart.  Sorry 
the  Yanks  have  interrupted  us.  Get  home  as 
fast  as  your  horses  can  carry  you.  Burn  your 
costumes  the  minute  you  reach  a  safe  place.  Hide 
them  under  your  saddles  as  usual  until  you  can 
burn  them.  Leave  one  at  a  time  and  go  home  by 
unused  roads  if  possible.  And  listen — every  man 
of  you  who  can,  should  leave  the  state  in  twenty- 
four  hours  and  stay  until  the  trouble  blows  over." 


256  THE  TRAITOR 

*'  What  are  you  goin'  to  do  ? "  asked  a  tall  masked 
figure. 

"Don't  worry,  Dan.  I'll  look  out  for  myself. 
You  boys  do  the  same  and  do  it  quick." 

"We'll  Stan'  by  you  if  ye  give  the  word," 
persisted  Dan. 

John  left  Stella's  side,  stepped  to  the  men  and 
growled : 

"I've  given  the  word.     Run,  and  run  like  hell!" 

"We  don't  like  the  orders.  Chief,  but  orders  is 
orders — git  boys!" 

The  men  quickly  disappeared,  and  John  took 
Stella's  hand: 

"Come,  dearest,  we  must  go." 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  timidly  clinging  to  his 
arm  and  holding  him  back. 

"We  must  hurry,"  he  urged. 

"  I  won't  hurry,"  she  said  with  tender 
wilfulness. 

"When  a  woman  won't,  she  won't,"  John 
laughed. 

She  gently  stroked  his  hand  and  slowly  slipped 
her  arm  in  his  as  she  allowed  him  to  lead  her  out 
into  the  moonlight  beside  the  white  silent  pillars. 

"Wait  here  until  I  bring  the  horses,"  John  said, 
gently  disengaging  his  arm. 

Stella  clung  to  him  firmly. 

"No,    don't    go    yet.     Why    hurry?  Let    them 


THE  ARREST  257 

wait.  I  wish  to  be  alone  with  you  for  a  while  here 
on  this  beautiful  spot.  It's  all  so  new  and 
wonderful.  This  knowing  that  I  love  and  am 
loved!  I've  just  begun  to  live  the  past  hour.  I'm 
afraid  to  go  back  to  the  world." 

"I  must  face  some  stern  realities  to-night.  But 
you  love  me.  That's  the  only  thing  of  any  impor- 
tance. What  do  jails  matter  ?  They  can  only 
imprison  the  body — my  soul  will  follow  you, 
hover  about  you,  laugh  and  cry  with  you  day  and 
night,  waking  or  dreaming." 

"They  won't  put  you  in  jail' to-night,  dear?" 
she  asked,  piteously. 

"Yes." 

"Then  you  shall  not  give  yourself  up  to  them! 
You'll  let  me  have  my  own  way  now  that  you 
know  that  I  love  you,  won't  you,  John  dear  ? 
There!  I've  called  your  name  for  the  first  time — 
haven't  I  ? — I  love  your  name! — You're  not  going 
to  give  up  to  them — are  you  ?" 

"I  see  no  other  way,  dearest." 

"You  told  your  men  to  fly.  Our  horses  are 
fresh.  We  can  put  miles  between  us  and  these 
troops  before  day.  I'll  go  with  you,  just  as  I  am 
in  this  riding  habit — no  matter — I'll  get  a  dress 
somewhere  when  you're  out  of  danger." 

He  slipped  his  arm  about  her,  bent  his  tall  form, 
and  stopped  her  with  a  kiss. 


258  THE  TRAITOR 

"How   sweet   to    hear   you    talk   this    beautiful 


nonsense!" 


"I  mean  it,"  she  hurried  on  earnestly.  "We 
must  leave  to-night,  I  don't  know  what  they  may 
do  to  you.  Something  terrible — maybe — I  can't 
think  of  it!  Something  may  happen  to  separate 
us.  I  want  to  feel  your  hand  clasping  mine  hke 
this  forever!" 

He  answered  by  crushing  the  little  hand  in  his. 

"You  won't  go  back  and  let  them  arrest  you, 
will  you,  John?"  she  pleaded,  a  sob  catching  her 
voice. 

Hewas  silent  and  a  smile  played  about  his  mouth. 

"Answer  me,  John  dear!  You  must  do  as  I 
say  because  life  is  too  sweet  and  beautiful  to  lose 
it!  You  will  leave  if  I  go  with  you — won't  you  ? 
My  whim  you  said  should  be  your  law.  This  is  my 
whim,  my  heart's  desire.  Get  the  horses  now,  and 
we'll  make  them  fly  as  far  from  Independence 
to-night  as  their  heels  can  carry  us!  You'll  do  this 
because  I  ask  it — won't  you,  darling  ?" 

The  little  head  began  to  droop,  the  voice  broke, 
and  she  lay  sobbing  in  his  arms. 

He  held  her  close  for  a  moment. 

"You  know  this  is  impossible,  dear!" — he  said 
tenderly. 

"Yes,  I  know!"  she  sobbed. 

"My  business  is  to  save  others  now." 


THE  ARREST  259 

"At  least,  you'll  go  by  the  house  and  stay  with 
me  a  little  while  ?" 

"They'll  think  I'm  hiding." 

"Who  cares  what  they  think?  I  can't  go  home 
alone,  can  I  ?" 

"Of  course,  I'll  stop  a  moment.  And  now  we 
must  hurry." 

He  brought  the  horses  and  they  galloped  back 
to  town  in  silence.  Along  a  dark  rough  place  of 
the  road,  they  slowed  down  to  a  walk,  and  his  hand 
sought  hers. 

"What  a  strange  ending  to  the  most  wonderful 
day  of  my  life!"  she  suddenly  cried  with  passionate 
tenderness. 

"  Why  strange  } "  he  asked.  *T  never  had  a  doubt 
that  you  would  love  me.  It  was  written  in  the 
Book  of  Life." 

"But  I  didn't  know  it  until  to-night." 

"Tell  me,  dear,"  he  pleaded;  "what  sudden 
flash  revealed  the  truth.?" 

"Don't  ask  me!"  she  said  with  a  shiver.  "I'll 
tell  you  some  day." 

"Why  not  now.?  This  has  been  a  wonderful 
day  for  me.  I  shall  never  live  its  like  again.  I 
heard  for  the  first  time  the  one  woman  I  love, 
the  only  woman  I  ever  loved,  the  one  woman  I 
shall  love  forever,  speak  the  sweetest  words  that 
ever  fell  from  human  lips. " 


26o  THE  TRAITOR 


I  love  you — I  love  you!"  she  softly  repeated. 

But  tell  me  how  you  came  to  know  it  to-day  ?" 
he    urged. 

"  It's  a  secret — one  I  fear  that  will  give  me  many 
an  hour  of  anguish.     I'll  tell  you,  dear — but  not 


now." 


"  I'll  share  it  with  you  when  you'll  let  me." 

*'Not  this  one,  John.  I  need  to  bear  it  alone 
to  keep  me  humble,  and  sweeten  with  suffering  and 
fear  the  bitter,  selfish  impulses  that  fight  within 
me.  Oh,  I  want  to  be  good  and  tender  and  beauti- 
ful and  true  now!" 

"How  full  of  strange  moods  you've  been  to- 
night!" he  exclaimed. 

"Have  I  dear?" 

She  caught  his  hand  and  pressed  it  tenderly. 

The  lights  of  the  town  flashed  in  view  from  the 
hill. 

They  galloped  boldly  down  the  main  street 
and  into  the  lawn.  As  they  passed  the  cabin  at 
the  gate,  Isaac's  face  appeared  a  moment  at  the 
door. 

"I  didn't  know  old  Isaac  had  returned  ?"  John 
remarked. 

"Nor  did  I,"  she  repHed;  "he  must  have  come 
with  those  troops." 

A  tremor  caught  her  voice  as  she  recalled  that 
Ackerman  was  in  communication  with  Isaac,  and 


THE  ARREST  261 

the  cords  she  had  been  winding  about  the  man  by 
her  side  began  slowly  to  tighten  around  her  own 
throat. 

He  tried  to  leave  her  at  the  door,  but  she  drew 
him  inside. 

"  You  can't  go  yet. " 

"I  must  hurry,  my  love,"  he  protested.  "Those 
men  will  think  I'm  a  coward.  I  should  have  been 
at  home  when  they  called." 

«'Sh!" 

She  placed  her  hand  over  his  lips,  ignoring  his 
plea. 

"I've  a  little  experiment  to  make.  My  whim  is 
law.  Go  stand  there  in  the  alcove  with  your  hat 
in  your  hand  fumbling  it." 

Laughing  with  girlish  excitement  she  pressed 
him  into  the  exact  spot  he  stood  the  night  she  first 
met  him,  drew  back,  and  gazed  tenderly  into  his 
face,  her  big  brown  eyes  dancing  with  the  hysterical 
strain  of  the  deep  half-conscious  fear  for  his  safety 
which  had  begun  to  strangle  her. 

"Have  you  forgotten  the  first  scene  in  the  drama 
of  our  hfe  ?"  she  asked,  slowly  approaching  him 
with  extended  hand. 

He  clasped  it  with  a  smile. 

"  I  shall  not  forget  it  if  I  live  to  be  a  hundred 
years  old,"  he  said  reverently. 

"And  yet,  you  are  trying  to  hurry  away  from  me 


262  THE  TRAITOR 

to-night  again.       Don't  you  like  the  picture  as 
well  now  ?  '* 

"A  thousand  times  better,  dearest,"  he  cried. 
"The  love  that  shines  in  your  eyes  will  make 
radiant  the  darkest  hour  of  life.  I've  nothing 
now  to  fear.  Perfect  love  has  cast  out  fear.  My 
way's  a  shining  one  whether  it  leads  to  a  palace 
or  a  prison." 

"Come  into  the  dining  room,"  she  whispered, 
leading  him  through  the  door  and  seating  herself 
at  the  head  of  the  table.  "You  remember  the 
night  we  sat  together  here  ?" 

"Do  I!" 

''Would  you  beHeve  me  if  I  told  you  that  I 
tried  to  make  you  love  me  that  night.?" 

"You  said  you  tried  to  hate  me." 

"  But  we  can't  always  do  what  we  try — can  we  .?" 
she  asked  wistfully. 

"You  did  that  night  I'm  sure." 

"And  yet,  I'm  failing  to-night!"  she  sobbed, 
unable  to  keep  back  the  tears,  "just  when  I've 
told  you  that  I  love  you,  and  the  joy  and  wonder 
of  it  all  has  begun  to  light  the  world.  Before  I've 
thought  only  of  myself.  To-night  I'm  thinking 
only  of  you,  my  sweetheart!  Just  as  I've  learned 
to  speak  your  name  I  feel  you  slipping  away  from 
me — oh,  John  darhng,  what  will  they  do  to  you  ? 
Tell  me — tell  me!" 


THE  ARREST  263 

"They  can  only  put  me  in  jail  to-night." 

"But  they  shall  not — they  shall  not!"  she 
moaned,  clinging  close  to  him.  "You  shall  not 
let  them!  You  shall  not  leave  this  house  except 
to  fly  with  me. " 

Stella's  words  choked  into  sudden  silence  at 
the  shrill  angry  notes  of  Aunt  Julie  Ann's  voice 
ringing  in  the  hall: 

"Git  out  er  dis  house,  I  tells  ye,  'fo  I  bus'  yo 
head  open  wid  dis  door  weight. " 

"Mind  your  own  business,"  snapped  the  angry 
reply. 

"I'se  mindin'  my  own  business.  Git  out  dat 
door,  an'  knock  'fo  yer  come  in!  An'  I  lets  yer  in 
when  I  gits  ready — when  my  mistis  say  yer  kin 
come!" 

"Faith,  an'  I'll  slap  ye  head  off  ye  shoulders,  if 
ye  don't  kape  still,"  growled  the  trooper. 

"What  do  you  want  in  here,  yer  low-life  slue- 
footed  Yankee.?" 

"If  it's  just  the  same  ter  ye,  I  wants  Mr.  John 
Graham,    me   dusky   maiden!" 

John  suddenly  released  himself  from  Stella's 
chnging  form  and  stepped  through  the  door  into 
the  hall. 

"I'm  John  Graham.     What  is  it.?" 

"You're  my  prisoner,  sir,  ye'll  have  to  come 
with  me!" 


264  THE  TRAITOR 


«T'. 


I'm  ready." 

The  sergeant  took  a  step  toward  John,  drawing 
a  pair  of  handcuffs  from  his  pocket. 

Stella  sprang  between  them,  her  eyes  blazing 
with  rage: 

"How  dare  you  enter  my  house  without  my 
permission  ?" 

The  sergeant  stopped  in  sheer  amazement  at 
the  fury  of  her  outburst.  Recovering  himself  with 
a  smile  he  replied: 

"Axin  yer  pardon  m'am,  it  may  be  rude,  but  hit 
ain't  writ  in  our  book  of  etiquette  ter  knock  at  the 
front  door  when  we're  huntin'  fer  a  man  charged 
with  murder." 

"But  he's  not  guilty!"  Stella  stormed. 

"  I  believe  ye.  Miss — ye'd  have  an  easy  time  with 
me.     But  I  ain't  the  Coort!" 

"Stella,   dear,"   John   pleaded. 

"Leave  this  house!"    Stella  cried  with  fury. 

"Sure  m'am,  but  yer  friend  comes  wid  me," 
said  the  sergeant,  taking  another  step  toward  John. 

"I  tell  you  he's  not  guilty!  It's  all  a  mistake. 
I'll  explain  to  your  commander  in  the  morning." 

John  smiled  in  spite  of  himself. 

"Stella  dear,  this  is  nonsense.  The  sergeant  is 
acting  under  orders.     I  must  go  at  once." 

"Ye  see,  m'am!"  said  the  sergeant  with  a  polite 
bow. 


THE  ARREST  265 

"All  right  then,  sergeant,"  said  Stella,  suddenly 
changing  her  tone,  "  I'll  excuse  you  for  your  rude- 
ness; I'll  go  with  you." 

"You  mustn't,  my  love,"  John  protested. 

"Yes,  I'm  going  with  you,  but  I've  had  nothing 
to  eat.  We  must  have  supper — it's  waiting.  Aunt 
Julie  Ann,  show  the  sergeant  downstairs  and  give 
him  supper.  Mr.  Graham  will  be  ready  in  half 
an  hour,  sergeant." 

The  trooper  looked  doubtfully  at  John  and  at 
Stella,  smiling. 

"All  right  m'am.  It's  agin  my  principles  as  a 
soldier  to  leave  a  good  supper  to  spoil — an',  axin 
yer  pardon  agin,  I'll  station  one  o'  me  men  at  each 
door  an'  window  to  make  sure  we  wont  lose  any 
of  our  party  durin'  the  festivities.  It'll  be  more 
sociable  like  to  feel  that  we're  all  here." 

The  sergeant  placed  his  men  and  followed  Aunt 
Julie  Ann  to  the  kitchen. 

Stella  drew  John  to  the  old  davenport: 

"Quick,  John  darling,  through  the  old  secret 
way — the  way  of  love " 

"Dearest!"  he  said  reproachfully. 

She  extended  her  hand  to  press  the  spring  in  the 
panel. 

"Quick,  the  soldier  at  the  door  can't  see 
you.  I'll  stand  in  front.  Wait  for  me  in  the 
vault.     I'll  let  them  search  the  house  and  when 


266  THE  TRAITOR 

they  go,  I'll  join  you  and  we  can  leave  before 
daylight." 

"I  must  face  it.     There's  no  other  way." 

"Yes,  yes,  this  way — the  old  sweet  way  of  love! 
I  can't  let  them  take  you — you're  mine  now — I 
love  you — I  love  you! — John,  dear,  he  has  big  ugly 
handcuffs.  He  was  going  to  put  them  on  you — 
didn't  you  see  him  ?" — her  voice  faltered. 

"Yes,  I  saw  him." 

*'l  can't  stand  it,  John,  I  can't — oh,  dear,  you 
don't  understand,  and  I  can't  explain — You  love 
me?" 

"  Better  than  life  and  deeper  than  death." 

"And  yet  you  refuse  my  heart's  desire  V 

"  Only  in  this.  I'm  done  with  lawlessness.  I'm 
not  a  coward.  I've  led  a  successful  revolution. 
It  had  to  be,  and  now  with  silent  lips  I'll  face  my 
accusers." 

A  hot  tear  fell  on  his  hand. 

"Come,  dearest,  you  must  help  me,"  he  pleaded. 

"Yes,  yes,  I  will,"  she  faltered,  brushing  the 
tears  away.  "Come  then,  we  will  have  this  one 
little  supper  together,  shall  we  not?" 

"Yes.  I  want  to  look  across  that  old  table  into 
your  face  again." 

He  chatted  gaily  through  the  supper  and  she 
sat  silent,  choking  back  the  sobs,  unable  to  eat. 

The  sergeant  bowed  at  the  door:  *, 


THE  ARREST  267 

"  Axin  yer  pardon  m'am,  but  I  must  hurry  now." 

John  rose  and  the  trooper  again  drew  his  hand- 
cuffs, Stella  watching  him  with  wide-set  eyes. 

"I'm  sorry,  sir,  I'll  have  to  put  'em  on." 

"It's  all  right,  sergeant,"  he  answered. 

Stella  sprang  between  them  and  placed  a  trem- 
bling little  hand  on  the  trooper's. 

"  Please,  sergeant ! " 

"Orders,  m'am,  I'm  sorry." 

"  Please — for — my — sake — don't.  He'll  go  with 
you.  I  tried  to  get  him  to  fly  with  me,  and  he 
wouldn't.  You  won't  put  them  on  him — will  you  ? 
For  my  sake  ?" 

Her  voice  sank  to  the  softest  music  of  tears. 
The  sergeant  hesitated  a  moment  and  said  gruffly: 

"All  right,  for  your  sake,  m'am,  I  won't." 

John  stooped  and  kissed  her.  The  door  closed 
behind  him  and  with  a  low  piteous  moan  Stella 
sank  to  the  floor,  crying: 

"God  have  mercy  on  meJ'' 


CHAPTER  II 


THROUGH    PRISON    BARS 


AN  IMMENSE  crowd  had  gathered  at  the 
hotel  awaiting  John's  arrival.  The  news 
of  his  arrest  had  stirred  the  town  to  feverish 
excitement. 

Without  turning  to  the  right  or  left,  or  answering 
a  look  of  recognition,  he  marched  between  two 
soldiers  through  the  mass  of  men  and  boys  in  the 
office  and  climbed  the  stairs  to  the  rooms  of  the 
United  States  Commissioner  who  was  waiting  to 
receive  him. 

The  Commissioner  handed  him  the  warrant  and 
he  merely  glanced  at  its  title: 

"the  united  states  versus  john  graham 

CONSPIRACY   AJSro   MURDEr" 

*'I  shall  hold  you  without  bail,  Mr.  Graham," 
said   the  Commissioner. 

John  merely  nodded  his  head. 

"To   the   county  jail,   sergeant!" 

The  soldiers  turned  and  John  descended  the 
stairs,  and  again  passed  through  the  crowd,  his 

head  erect,  his  face  an  immovable  mask. 

268 


THROUGH  PRISON  BARS  269 

In  fifteen  minutes  the  heavy  bolt  shot  into  place 
and  he  was  a  prisoner  awaiting  trial  for  life,  locked 
in  a  filthy  cell  of  the  common  jail  of  the  county 
of  Independence. 

He  had  often  been  to  this  jail  as  a  lawyer  to 
interview  prisoners  whom  he  had  defended  at 
various  times,  but  he  had  paid  no  attention  to  the 
building.  The  complaints  of  the  discomforts  of 
the  jail  he  had  always  taken  as  a  humorous 
contribution  to  life. 

He  was  amazed  to  discover  that  the  place  into 
which  he  had  been  suddenly  thrust  was  an  inner 
room  opening  into  a  corridor  with  no  means  of 
light  or  ventilation  save  the  single  iron-grilled  door 
— a  veritable  hell-hole  whose  heat  was  so  stifling 
and  air  so  foul  with  disgusting  odours  he  could 
scarcely  breathe.  By  the  rays  of  the  little  kerosene 
lamp  which  hung  in  the  corridor,  flickering, 
sputtering  and  stinking,  he  saw  that  there  was  not 
a  trace  of  furniture  in  the  room,  not  even  a  pile  of 
straw  on  which  to  sleep.  The  floor  had  evidently 
not  been  swept  in  a  year,  the  dust  lay  in  piles,yand 
the  room  had  just  been  vacated  by  four  perspiring 
Negro  convicts  who  had  been  removed  to  the 
penitentiary  to  serve  sentences  for  burglary,  arson 
and  murder. 

It  was  impossible  to  sit  down,  it  was  unthink- 
able to  lie  down,  and  so  for  five  hours  back  and 


270  THE  TRAITOR 

forth  he  walked  the  length  of  his  cell  like  a  caged 
panther. 

For  the  first  hour  his  proud  spirit  was  sustained 
by  the  enormity  of  the  degradation  thus  heaped 
upon  him.  He  felt  sure  that  such  treatment 
was  given  him  for  a  purpose.  He  knew  that 
all  the  prisoners  of  the  county  were  not 
treated  as  swine.  In  his  anger  he  paused  once, 
determined  to  demand  a  chair  or  bed  of  some 
kind,  and  found  that  he  could  only  make  his 
wants  known  by  yelling  down  two  flights  of 
stairs  to  the  guard  who  stood  at  the  outer  door 
of  the  last  floor.  He  could  not  thus  humiliate 
himself. 

For  the  first  time  he  realised  what  it  meant  to  be 
deprived  not  only  of  the  comforts  but  the  common 
decencies  of  human  life.  In  fierce  anger  he 
silently  raved  for  two  hours  and  then  a  strange 
calm  came  over  his  soul.  His  hands  grasped  the 
iron  bars  of  the  door  and  he  stood  as  if  in  a  trance 
while  the  unconscious  minutes  lengthened  into 
hours.  A  beautiful  face  bent  above  him.  Her 
voice,  low  and  tender  with  the  music  of  love,  filled 
all  space.  The  stifling  cell  vanished.  He  was  in 
the  open  fields  with  her  hand  in  his.  He  woke 
with  a  laugh,  and  caught  the  glint  of  the  first 
beams  of  the  rising  sun  stealing  through  the 
window  of  the  corridor. 


y^-^ 


A  beautiful  face  bent  above  him" 


THROUGH  PRISON  BARS  271 

A  Negro  boy  brought  his  breakfast  of  corn  bread 
and  bacon  in  a  dirty  tin  plate. 

John  looked  at  it  a  minute  with  a  curious  smile: 

"No,  thank  you,  my  boy,  I've  just  had  my 
breakfast  of  ambrosia.  I'll  take  a  chair,  however, 
if  the   jailor   can   spare   one!" 

"Yassah,  I'll  tell  'im  when  I  goes  down,"  he 
replied.  "But  I  spec  dey  ain't  none  lef.  We  got 
lots  er  boarders  now." 

He  placed  the  plate  on  the  floor  by  the  door,  and 
grinned. 

"Dey  wuz  er  young  lady  come  ter  see  ye  las* 
night,  sah,  but  dey  wouldn't  let  'er  in!" 

John  smiled. 

"What  time  was  it.^" 

"  Bout  two  er  clock." 

"Yes,  I  saw  her,"  John  slowly  said  with  a 
strange  look  in  his  deep-set  eyes.  "She  came  up 
and  stayed  with  me  until  sunrise." 

The  Negro  backed  cautiously  away  muttering. 

"He  got  'em  sho!"  and  darted  down  the  steps. 

The  fact  that  he  was  being  kept  in  solitary 
confinement  and  refused  communication  of  any 
kind  with  friend  or  counsel,  roused  every  force  of 
John  Graham's  character. 

When  the  Attorney  General  who  had  come  down 
from  Washington  called  at  ten  o'clock  he  greeted 
him  with  a  laugh  through  the  bars  of  his  door: 


272  THE  TRAITOR 

'  "Excuse  my  lack  of  hospitality,  General  Cham- 
pion," he  said;  "I'd  offer  you  a  chair,  but  the 
hotel  is  crowded  and  we're  short  of  chairs  just 
now.'* 

"Haven't  you  a  chair  or  a  bed  in  your  cell  ?"  he 
enquired,  peering  in.  "It's  an  outrage.  Bring 
two  chairs  here  at  once!"  he  thundered  to  the 
attendant. 

"Mr.  Graham,"  said  the  General  cordially, 
"  I've  hastened  to  you  as  a  friend.  I  was  a  member 
of  Congress  with  your  uncle.  We  were  warm  per- 
sonal friends.  I've  known  several  of  your  people, 
and  always  found  them  the  salt  of  the  earth." 

"Thanks,"  John  interrupted,  a  smile  playing 
about  the  corners  of  his  eyes. 

"  I  wish  to  be  of  help  to  you  if  you  will  let  me. 
It  has  long  been  known  to  the  Department  of 
Justice  that  you  are  the  Chief  of  the  Klan  in 
North  Carolina." 

"I  congratulate  the  Department  of  Justice  on 
the  attainment  of  such  interesting  knowledge," 
John  broke  in. 

"Do  you  deny  it?" 
1  m  not  discussmg  it. 

"You  must  know,  Mr.  Graham,  that  the  organi- 
sation is  doomed,  and  that  you  are  in  an  extremely 
dangerous  position.     I  trust  you  realise  this  ?" 

"Quite  warm  last  night.  General!" 


THROUGH  PRISON  BARS  273 

"Come,  come,  young  man,  I'm  your  friend — " 

"It's  a  pleasure  to  meet  a  friend;  do  you  think 
it  will  rain  ?" 

"You  are  to  be  put  on  trial  for  your  life " 

"My  idea  is  that  we  are  in  for  a  long  dry  spell, 
General." 

"Tut,  tut,  my  boy,  come  now,  don't  try  my 
temper  with  such  nonsense.  President  Grant  is 
not  hostile  to  the  South.  He  grieves  over  the 
necessity  of  the  severe  laws  which  he  is  now 
enforcing.  His  only  desire  is  to  pacify  these 
disorders.  The  Klan  must  be  stamped  out. 
You  have  realised  this — I  know  that  you  have  led 
parties  who  have  inflicted  summary  justice  on 
some  of  the  scoundrels  who  are  operating  in  its 
disguises.     Is  not  this  a  fact?" 

John  laughed. 

"I  know  it,"  affirmed  the  General. 

"Then   why   ask    me?" 

"  I  know  that  you  have  tried  to  stamp  out  the 
disorders,"  the  General  repeated.  "Whatever 
the  impulses  which  led  a  man  of  your  high  char- 
acter into  this  lawless  conspiracy,  you  have  realised 
at  last  its  dangerous  character.  You  are  in  a 
position  to  render  the  South  and  the  Nation  an 
enormous  service.  Help  me  to  restore  law  and 
order  in  the  South  and  the  Government  will  show 
its  gratitude." 


274  THE  TRAITOR 

"You  mean  exactly?" 

"That  you  give  me  the  information  needed  to 
wipe  the  Invisible  Empire  out  of  existence " 

"And  in  return  ?" 

The  General  placed  his  hands  on  the  bars  and 
leaned  close. 

"The  President  has  promised  me  to  immediately 
appoint  you  an  Assistant  Prosecuting  Attorney, 
and  in  six  months  promote  you  to  the  high  honour 
of  a  United  States  Circuit  Judgeship." 

John's  fist  suddenly  shot  through  the  iron  bars, 
struck  the  General  in  the  mouth,  and  hurled  him 
in  a  heap  against  the  wall  of  the  corridor,  as  he 
cried  with  rage: 

"  D you !  How  dare  you  thus  insult  me  .? " 

The  General  picked  up  his  broken  glasses  from 
the  floor,  wiped  a  drop  of  blood  from  his  lip,  shook 
his  fist  at  the  man  who  glared  at  him  through  the 
barred  door,  and  shouted: 

"I'll  make  you  pay  dearly  for  this!" 

John  laughed  in  his  face. 

"  But  you  won't  make  me  that  offer  again,  will 
you 


?'* 


CHAPTER  III 


A   woman's   way 


IT  WAS  one  c 'clock  before  Stella  recovered 
from  the  first  collapse  of  terror  for  the  fate 
of  her  lover.  And  then  the  imperious  will  sum- 
moned every  energy  to  the  struggle  for  his  liberty 
and  life. 

She  changed  her  riding  habit  and,  taking 
Maggie,  started  at  half  past  one  in  the  morning  to 
find  Ackerman. 

She  had  gone  half  way  to  Mrs.  Wilson's  before 
she  recalled  the  startling  fact  that  her  relations  to 
Ackerman  were  unknown,  and  the  still  more  pajn- 
ful  fact  that  all  knowledge  of  her  relations  to  the 
detective  must  now  be  concealed  with  the  utmost 
care.  She  felt  instinctively  that  if  John  Graham 
discovered  her  plan  to  entrap  him  into  a  con- 
fession and  her  betrayal  of  his  generous  trust  in  her 
love,  he  could  not  forgive  it.  She  shivered  at  the 
thought  of  his  anger  and  disgust. 

"We'll  go  to  the  jail,  Maggie,"  she  said,  with 
sudden  energy,  "where  is  it.^" 

"Right  down  de  nex  street,  I  show  ye,"  Maggie 
answered.     "I    been    dar    lots    er   times.     I    wuz 

275 


276  THE  TRAITOR 

down  dar  ylstiddy  ter  see  my  uncle  Joe  start  ter 
de  penitentiary.'* 

Stella  shuddered,  followed  her  down  the  side 
street,  and  knocked  at  the  jail  door. 

No  one  answered.  She  knocked  again  and 
again.  Finally  the  jailor  thrust  his  head  from 
the  window  above,  saw  it  was  a  woman,  shut  the 
sash  with  a  bang  and  went  back  to  bed. 

Stella  looked  at  the  grim  walls  with  a  sense  of 
blind  fury. 

"I'll  show  that  insolent  lazy  rascal  to-morrow 
morning  how  to  treat  me,"  she  cried,  as  she  turned 
and  started  home.  When  they  reached  the  corner 
she  stopped,  looked  back  at  the  jail  looming  black, 
silent  and  threatening  among  the  shadows,  and 
her  heart  went  out  in  an  agony  of  piteous  yearning 
to  the  man  within  its  walls. 

Maggie  pointed  to  the  mass  of  trees   behind 

the  jail. 

"See  dem  trees  dar  behin'  de  house  ?" 

Her  mistress  gave  no  answer,  and  the  maid 
rattled  on  in  awed  whispers: 

"Dars  where  dey  hang  folks!  Dey's  er  high 
fence  roun'  de  yard,  but  ye  can  see  over  it  from 
here.  I  stan'  right  on  dis  corner  an'  see  'em  hang 
a  man  dar  las'  year." 

"Hush  Maggie!"  Stella  sternly  commanded. 

"  Yassum." 


A  WOMAN'S  WAY  277 

Stella  hurried  home,  and  paced  the  floor  of  her 
room  until  morning. 

At  eight  o'clock,  in  answer  to  her  urgent  sum- 
mons, Ackerman  came. 

"You  are  sure  no  one  saw  you  enter?"  she 
asked  nervously. 

"Yes,  but  why  such  caution  now  ?  Our  work  is 
done,  and  well  done.  I  congratulate  you  on  the 
skill  with  which  you  did  your  part.'* 

"I  had  nothing  to  do  with  it.  I've  sent  for  you 
to  have  the  whole  thing  stopped  at  once.** 

"You  had  nothing  to  do  with  it!'*  Ackerman 
exclaimed. 

"Absolutely  nothing.  I  repudiate  the  whole 
afl^air." 

"  I  came  here  to  do  this  work  at  your  own 
request,"  he  protested. 

"The  arrest  of  Mr.  Graham  is  an  infamous 
outrage!'* 

"What!** 

"An  infamous  outrage.  I  repeat  it  and  demand 
his  immediate  release." 

"Why,  my  dear  young  woman,  it  was  on  the 
information  which  you  gave  that  I  swore  out  the 
warrant  for  his  arrest." 

"  It  was  you  who  swore  out  the  warrant  against 
him?"  Stella  fiercely  cried.  "Oh,  I  could  kill 
you!" 


278  THE  TRAITOR 

**You  gave  me  the  information." 

"I  did  nothing  of  the  kind,"  she  stormed.  It's 
false — I  deny  it!" 

"On  your  statement  to  me  that  he  had  con- 
fessed that  he  was  Chief  of  the  Klan,  I  made  the 
oath  on  which  his  warrant  was  based,"  Ackerman 
maintained   with  warmth. 

"Then  you  swore  a  He!"  she  hissed.  "A  lie — 
a  He!" 

Stella  fell  on  the  lounge  and  buried  her  face  in 
her  hands. 

Ackerman  flushed  and  was  silent.  His  keen 
eyes  grew  suddenly  tender.  He  smiled,  rose  and 
stood  by  her  side  a  moment,  and  when  she  looked 
up  extended  his  hand. 

"I'm  sorry  for  you.  Miss  Stella.  I  think  I 
understand!" 

"Then  you  will  know  how  to  forgive  my  bitter 
and  unjust  words?" 

"Yes." 

"Can't  you  help  me  ?"  she  asked  piteously. 

"The  situation  is  extremely  delicate  for  me  as  it 
is  dangerous  for  John  Graham.  The  Government 
is  determined  to  press  these  cases  for  conspiracy 
and  murder.  Personally  I  have  never  believed 
Graham    guilty   of  the   murder   of  the    Judge." 

"Of  course  he  is  innocent!" 

"  I  think  I  know  the  man  who  killed  your  father." 


A  WOMAN'S  WAY  279 

"And  you  will  help  me  save  John  Graham?" 
she  cried. 

"I'll  have  a  big  job  before  me  to  complete  my 
work  before  this  trial.  There'll  be  plenty  of 
witnesses  to  swear  anything  the  Government  wants, 
but  I'll  do  my  best." 

"Thank  you." 

With  a  cordial  grasp  of  the  hand  Ackerman 
took  his  leave  and  Stella  hastened  to  confer  with 
the  Attorney  General. 

"I've  come  to  demand  the  immediate  release  of 
Mr,  Graham  on  the  absurd  charge  that  has  been 
made  against  him,"  she  began  impetuously. 

The  General  looked  at  her  in  astonishment. 
"Hoity  toity!  My  dear  Miss,  not  so  fast." 

"You  began  this  at  my  request,  I  demand 
that  it  cease," 

"Yes,  yes,  I  see,  but  you  have  forgotten  that 
greater  issues  are  at  stake  than  even  the  lives  of 
two  men,"  , 

"  I'll  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  prosecution  of 
an  innocent  man.   General  Champion," 

"Even  so,  you  have  set  in  motion  forces  you  can 
not  control.  The  fate  of  Mr,  Graham  is  fixed. 
He  is  the  Chief  of  the  Klan.  He's  as  sure  of  con- 
viction as  the  fact  that  he  is  to  be  put  on  trial. 
I'll  see  that  he  is  tried  and  that  all  the  resources  of 
the  Government  are  used  to  secure  his  conviction." 


28o  THE  TRAITOR 

Stella's  beautiful  face  grew  white  and  still. 

"You  will  make  a  special  effort  against  him  ?" 
she  faltered. 

"I  will,"  was  the  stern  answer.  "There  was  a 
way  of  escape.  I  offered  it  to  him  this  morning 
in  the  most  friendly  and  generous  spirit.  His 
answer  was  the  gravest  personal  insult." 

"May  I  see  him  at  once  ?" 

"Certainly." 

The  General  hastily  wrote  an  order  and  Stella 
hurried  to  the  jail. 

She  determined  to  make  a  desperate  appeal  to 
induce  him  to  compromise  with  the  authorities 
and  save  his  life. 

At  the  sight  of  the  heavy  iron  bars  of  his  door 
before  which  John  stood  smiling,  she  broke  com- 
pletely down,  seized  his  extended  hand,  covered 
it  with  kisses  and  sobbed  bitterly. 

"Come,  come,  my  beautiful  one,  this  is  not  like 
you!  Fve  counted  on  your  braye  spirit  to  win  this 
fight.  Not  another  tear.  Courage  and  laughter 
in  our  souls,  defiance,  scorn,  contempt  for  our 
enemies!  See,  they  have  made  me  quite  com- 
fortable within  the  past  hour.  I  tried  to  knock 
the  Attorney  General  down,  and  lo,  they  rewarded 
me  with  a  cot  and  a  chair!" 

"You  knocked  General  Champion  down?" 
Stella  gasped  in  amazement.. 


A  WOMAN'S  WAY  281 

"I  did  my  best  under  difficulties.  Think  of  it, 
my  dear!  He  offered  me  an  office  for  the  betrayal  of 
my  people!  I  couldn't  kill  him.  I  was  behind 
the  bars,  but  I  shall  always  thank  God  that  he 
stood  close  enough  for  my  fist  to  reach  his 
mouth." 

John  broke  into  a  joyous  laugh.  His  spirit 
was  contagious.  Stella  looked  at  him  with  wonder 
until  a  smile  stole  through  the  clouds  that  shadowed 
her  own  brow. 

"How  beautiful  you  are  this  morning,  dearest!" 
he  cried  exultantly. 

She  brushed  the  tears  from  her  eyes. 

"I  tried  to  see  you  last  night  at  two  o'clock," 
she  softly  said. 

"And  succeeded,  my  love,"  he  interrupted 
smiling.  "You  came  up  and  stood  there  and 
talked  to  me  just  as  you  are  now.  You  told  me  to 
be  of  good  cheer — that  you  loved  me.  That  you 
hated  a  sneak  and  a  coward  and  a  traitor.  That 
you  had  rather  see  me  cold  in  death  than  stoop  to  a 
low  dishonourable  deed,  even  for  all  the  honours  of 
earth.  And  I  Hfted  up  my  head  in  courage.  I 
forgot  jails  and  handcuffs,  courts  and  trials.  You 
took  me  by  the  hand  and  led  me  away  into  green 
fields  through  the  deep  woods  beside  beautiful 
waters.  All  night  hand  in  hand  we  roamed 
through  the  mystic  world  of  Love —  the  only  world 


282  THE  TRAITOR 


of  realities — I  was  angry  with  the  sun  for  wak- 
ing  me! 

"My  darHng,  I'm  not  worthy  of  such  love," 
Stella  cried,  pressing  his  hand.  "What  can  I  do 
to   help  you  ?" 

"Keep  on  loving  me — that's  the  main  thing! — 
incidentally  consult  a  lawyer — the  best  you  can 
find — tell  him  that  I'm  going  to  fight,  fight,  fight 
to  the  last  ditch  my  own  cause  and  the  cause  of 
my  people!  Keep  out  of  old  Champion's  way.  He 
carries  a  bribe  in  one  hand,  a  death  warrant  in  the 
other.  Don't  let  him  know  your  plans.  Don't 
let  him  know  that  you  love  me." 

Stella  lifted  her  head  with  sudden  resolution. 

"I'll  get  the  best  lawyer  in  America.  I'll 
mortgage  the  house  for  the  money." 

"My  little  heroine!"  he  exclaimed  with  pride. 

"I'll  go  at  once." 

Through  the  iron  bars  she  pressed  her  lips  and 
hurried  to  the  telegraph  office  with  the  light  of  new 
courage  shining  in  her  eyes. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE    HON.    STEPHEN    HOYLE 

STEVE  HOYLE  was  confined  to  his  room 
with  a  bullet  hole  through  the  flesh  of  his 
right  arm  the  day  following  the  meeting  at  Inwood. 

He  wrote  Stella  a  letter  informing  her  that  John 
Graham  had  hired  a  gang  of  thugs  to  attempt  his 
assassination  on  the  night  he  was  to  meet  her,  that 
he  had  been  desperately  wounded  in  her  service, 
and  begged  that  she  call  at  once. 

Stella  sent  him  a  reply  that  cut  deeper  than  the 
bullet  from  John's  revolver.  It  was  very  brief. 
Steve  read  it  with  muttered  curses: 

Mr.  Stephen  Hoyle, 

I  have  long  suspected  that  you  were  a  Har.  Last  night 
you  proved  yourself  a  coward.     Our  acquaintance  has  ended. 

Stella  Butler. 

Steve  paced  his  room  in  a'speechless  rage  for  an 
hour,  dressed  to  call  on  her  and  demand  an  inter- 
view, and  suddenly  changed  his  mind  at  the  sight 
of  a  squad  of  troops  hurrying  past  his  door. 

The  arrest  of  John  Graham  had  brought  him 
to   the   verge   of  collapse.     He   trembled   at   the 

283 


284  THE  TRAITOR 

thought  that  his  turn  might  come  next,  and  feared 
to  put  his  head  out  the  door. 

When  ten  minutes  later  the  soldiers  who  had 
passed  suddenly  appeared  at  every  exit  of  his  house 
and  loudly  knocked  for  entrance,  he  dropped  into 
a  chair  shivering  with  abject  terror. 

When  arrested  he  turned  his  heavy  white  face 
toward   the   sergeant  piteously. 

"  I  beg  of  you,  officer,  allow  me  to  stay  here 
under  guard.  I  am  desperately  wounded,  by  an 
accident." 

"You'll  have  to  go  to  jail,"  the  trooper  snapped. 

"But,  my  dear  man,  I  can't.  I  can't  walk," 
he  gasped  with  laboured  breath.  "Just  let  me 
stay  here  under  arrest  until  I  can  arrange  with  the 
authorities  to  give  bail." 

"Ye'U  have  ter  fix  that  at  headquarters — come 
on,"  he  answered  gruffly,  seizing  Steve  and  lifting 
him  to  his  feet. 

The  heavy  form  collapsed  and  he  sank  in  a 
heap  on   the  floor. 

The  sergeant  looked  at  him  a  moment  with 
contempt,  turned  to  his  men  and  said: 

"Keep  him  under  guard  till  I  report." 

The  moment  he  had  gone,  Steve  revived  and 
crawled  in  bed,  his  teeth  chattering  with  a  nervous 
chill.  The  soldiers  sat  down  and  laughed  in  his 
face,  and  cracked  jokes  about  the  bravery  of  men 


THE  HON.  STEPHEN  HOYLE        285 

who  could  ride  well  at  night  but  sometimes  fainted 
in  the  daylight. 

The  Attorney  General  had  ordered  Steve's 
arrest  on  a  shrewd  guess  which  Ackerman  had 
made  on  hearing  of  the  strange  fight  between  two 
groups  of  horsemen  in  the  country  at  dusk  the 
night  before.  The  detective  had  seen  the  doctor 
leaving  Hoyle's  house  and  learned  at  once  that 
Steve  was  wounded. 

In  attempting  to  serve  the  warrant  on  John 
Graham  he  had  found  that  he  had  ridden  into  the 
country  alone  in  the  direction  taken  by  Steve 
Hoyle.  Ackerman  had  long  suspected  Steve 
of  comphcity  in  the  movements  of  the  Klan,  and 
knowing  the  deadly  enmity  between  the  two  men 
had  at  once  reached  the  conclusion  that  a  feud 
within  the  ranks  of  its  members  could  alone 
account   for  the   situation. 

''Arrest  Hoyle,"  he  urged  on  Champion; 
"threaten  him  with  immediate  conviction  for  con- 
spiracy and  murder  and  see  what  happens." 

The  Attorney  General  had  taken  his  advice, 
and  on  receiving  the  report  of  Steve's  "illness" 
from  the  sergeant,  went  immediately  to  see  him. 

Steve  was  profuse  in  his  expressions  of  cordiaHty. 

"I'm  sorry.  General  Champion,"  he  said,  with 
loud  friendliness,  "that  my  father  and  mother  are 
in  the  North  at  present.     They  spend  a  great  deal 


286  THE  TRAITOR 

of  their  time  up  there  among  you  good  Yankees. 
The  fact  is  they  are  specially  fond  of  you.  My 
father,  you  know,  was  a  secret  Union  man  during 
the  war  and  has  always  voted  your  ticket  since, 
though  for  social  reasons  he  don't  say  much  about 
it  down  here." 

Steve  winked  and  laughed  feebly. 

"Is  it  so?"  asked  the  General. 

"Yes,  of  course,"  Steve  hurried  on,  "and  I 
want  to  ask  you  as  a  personal  favour  to  my  father, 
if  not  to  me,  to  accept  my  bail  for  ^10,000.  The 
whole  thing,  I  assure  you,  is  an  absurd  mistake. 
My  father  and  I  can  convince  you  of  this  on  his 
return." 

The  General  pursed  his  lips  and  watched  Steve 
shrewdly  for  a  moment. 

"  I'm  sorry  I  can't  accommodate  you,  Mr.  Hoyle. 
We  cannot  accept  bail  in  cases  of  this  kind.  You 
must  realise  at  once  that  you  are  in  a  very  danger- 
ous position.  Beyond  a  doubt  your  life  is  in 
peril. 

Steve  attempted  to  laugh  but  choked  with 
terror,    saying    feebly: 

"Oh,  not  so  bad  as  that.  General.  I'm  a  lawyer 
myself  you  know.  I  can  only  be  tried  on  a  charge 
of  murder  before  a  state  judge  and  jury.  You 
have  no  right  to  put  a  man  on  trial  for  his  hfe 
here." 


THE  HON.  STEPHEN  HOYLE        287 

*'  Right  or  no  right,  young  man,  we  are  going  to 
do  it  under  the  Act  of  Congress.  We've  got  the 
power.  The  army  is  here.  The  Supreme  Court 
may  decide  the  Act  unconstitutional  later." 

"I  assure  you.  General,  the  charge  against  me 
is  a  monstrous  falsehood,"  Steve  protested 
vigorously. 

"And  yet,  my  boy,  the  men  have  found  in  the 
search  of  this  house  a  full  Ku  Klux  regalia  for  man 
and  horse.     Sergeant,  bring  that  thing  in!" 

The  trooper  stepped  in  the  door  and  held  up 
before  Steve's  astonished  gaze  the  costume  which 
he  had  taken  under  his  saddle  the  night  before  on 
his   trip   to  meet  Stella. 

Steve  sat  up  in  bed  trembling  and  perspiring. 

"Why,  yes,  of  course,"  he  stammered.  "That 
has  been  here  for  some  time.  I've  made  no 
attempt  to  conceal  it.  It  was  given  me  by  a  client 
of  mine  who  was  a  member.  I'm  keeping  it  as  a 
curiosity." 

"A  dangerous  curiosity  to  keep  about  your 
house  in  these  times,  sir,"  said  the  General  sternly. 
"  Let's  come  to  the  point.  Do  you  wish  to  k^ep  out 
of  jail  or  do  you  wish  to  test  the  power  of  the  United 
States  Government  to  put  you  on  trial  for  your 
life?" 

"I  want  to  keep  out  of  jail,"  was  the  quick 
answer. 


288  THE  TRAITOR 

"That's  sensible.  Then  face  the  facts.  My 
detective  has  watched  you  for  three  months.  I  can 
convict  you  of  murder." 

Steve  fumbled  his  hands  nervously  while  the 
General  paused  and  gazed  steadily  at  his  wavering 
eyes. 

"Now,  Fve  a  generous  proposition  to  make 
you.  ^ 

"Yes  .? — ^yes  ?'*  Steve  gasped. 

*One  that  will  give  you  an  opportunity  to 
prove  yourself  a  patriot  and  a  hero — a  patriot 
because  you  will  render  your  country  a  great 
service — a  hero  because  you  must  brave  the  scorn 
of  every  white  man  and  woman  whose  opinion  is 
worth  anything  to  you.      Will  you  consider  it  ?" 

"Yes,"  Steve  answered. 

*'Give  me  the  information  needed  to  destroy  the 
Invisible  Empire  and  I  will  not  only  release  you 
from  custody;  I  will  make  you  my  assistant  and 
ultimately  secure  your  promotion  to  a  judgeship. 
Your  answer  ?" 

"I'll  do  it,  General,  I'll  do  it!"  Steve  cried, 
while  the  maudlin  tears  of  a  coward's  relief  from 
mortal  fear  coursed  down  his  fat  cheeks.  I'll 
stand  by  you  and  help  save  our  country  by  restor- 
ing law  and  order." 

The  General  thanked  and  congratulated  him, 
again  called  him  a  patriot  and  hero  and  sent  for 


THE  HON.  STEPHEN  HOYLE        289 

his  stenographer.     For  four  hours  he  was  closeted 

with  Steve. 

At  dusk  the  soldiers  moved  with  sure  tread  in 
every  county  in  Piedmont  Carolina,  and  before 
the  sun  rose  the  blow  had  fallen  swift,  relentless, 

terrible! 

The  Klan  leaders  In  every  county  were  behind 

the  bars. 

More  than  five  hundred  arrests  were  made  in  the 
county  of  Independence.  Around  the  jail,  and 
half  a  dozen  improvised  prisons,  throngs  of  sad- 
faced  wives,  mothers,  sisters  and  sweethearts 
stood  silently  weeping. 

The  next  morning  Champion  wired  the  Presi- 
dent asking  that  the  Honourable  Stephen  Hoyle  be 
appointed  acting  Assistant  United  States  District 
Attorney,  and  his  request  was  granted. 


CHAPTER  V 

ACKERMAN    CORNERED 

THE  arrest  of  John  'Graham  precipitated  a 
crisis  between  Ackerman  and  Susie  Wilson 
which  was  as  unexpected  as  it  was  embarrassing 
to  the  handsome  young  detective. 

From  the  moment  she  had  seen  his  letter  on 
Stella's  bed  she  had  watched  the  young  Northerner 
with   the    keenest   suspicions. 

The  following  day  he  pressed  his  love  with 
straightforward  earnestness. 

She  answered  with  an  evasive  smile. 

"  I  appreciate  the  honour  you  pay  me,  Mr. 
Ackerman,  but  I'm  not  in  love  with  you.  I  hope 
we  shall  always  be  friends.  If  your  love  endures 
it  may  win  mine  in  the  end — if  you  persist." 

"I  have  your  permission  to  persist.^" 

"Certainly,"  she  answered  frankly.  "I  love 
to  be  loved." 

"All  right,"  he  said  with  a  boyish  laugh.  "I'm 
going  to  build  my  house  in  the  fall." 

On  the  day  following  John  Graham's  arrest  she 

saw  Ackerman  emerge  from  the  hotel  in  earnest 

consultation  with  the  Attorney  General.     To  her 

290 


ACKERMAN  CORNERED  291 

the  prosecuting  officer  of  the  United  States  at  that 
moment  meant  all  that  was  vile  and  hateful  in  the 
tyranny  under  which  the  South  had  groaned  since 
the  dawn  of  her  memory. 

The  moment  she  saw  Ackerman  with  this  man, 
his  very  name  became  to  her  accursed.  Her  keen 
intuition  at  once  linked  the  letter  to  Stella  with  the 
murder  of  the  Judge  and  the  prosecution  of  the 
Klan.  She  was  sure  that  Ackerman  had  been 
playing  the  hypocrite  and  was  at  heart  an  enemy  of 
the  South.  She  determined  not  only  to  cut  his 
acquaintance  but  put  him  out  of  her  mother's 
house. 

When  the  young  detective  received  a  written 
notice  from  Susie  to  vacate  his  room  immediately, 
he  took  it  to  be  a  practical  joke  and  asked  to  see 
her.  She  sent  word  by  the  servant  that  unless  he 
moved  during  the  day  his  trunk  would  be  thrown 
on  the  sidewalk. 

Ackerman  left  in  answer  to  a  summons  from  the 
Attorney  General's  office,  still  puzzling  his  brain 
over  the  meaning  of  the  joke.  He  was  sure  that 
she  could  not  possibly  know  of  his  oath  against 
John  Graham  which  was  a  secret  of  the  Depart- 
ment of  Justice.  He  was  equally  sure  that  she 
could  not  suspect  his  real  business  in  Independence. 
He  meant  to  win  her  love  first.  He  didn't  care 
what  she  thought  of  his  profession  afterwards. 


292  THE  TRAITOR 

When  he  returned  to  Mrs.  Wilson's  for  supper 
he  was  struck  dumb  by  the  sight  of  his  trunk  lying 
on  the  sidewalk  outside  the  gate. 

Without  a  word  he  picked  it  up,  carried  it  back 
upstairs  and  threw  it  on  the  floor  with  a  bang  in 
front  of  the  room  that  had  been  his. 
'■      He  sat  down  on  it  and  refused  to  stir  until  Susie 
answered  in  person  his  demand  for  an  interview. 

To  avoid  a  scene  she  finally  consented  to  meet 
him  in  the  parlour. 

Susie's  gray  eyes  were  cold  and  her  tall  figure 
rigid. 

**In  violation  of  every  law  that  should  govern 
the  conduct  of  a  gentleman  you  have  forced  your- 
self into  my  presence  Mr.  Ackerman.  I  trust  our 
interview  may  be  very  brief." 

*'  In  violation  of  every  law  of  Southern  hospitality, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  rules  which  should  govern 
the  temper  of  a  lady,  you  have  thrown  me  out  of 
your  house  without  rhyme  or  reason.  And  before 
I  go  I  respectfully  but  firmly  ask,  why?" 

*'  You  have  pretended  to  be  a  friend  of  our  people 
I  find  that  you  are  an  enemy — a  sneak  and  a 
hypocrite." 

Ackerman's  cheeks  blushed  redder  than  usual; 
he  bit  his  lips  and  finally  burst  into  laughter. 

"Is  that  all?" 

Susie  rose  with  dignity. 


ACKERMAN  CORNERED  293 

"It's  quite  enough  for  my  mother  and  myself." 

*'But  it's  not  enough  for  me,  Miss  Susie.  My 
defence  against  your  unjust  suspicions  is  perfect. 
I  will  make  it  if  necessary.  I  trust  it  will  not  be 
necessary." 

"You  might  include  in  your  defence  an  explana- 
tion of  why  you  were  corresponding  with  Stella 
Butler  while  you  were  writing  love  to  me  ?" 

"Who  said  that  I  wrote  to  Miss  Butler?" 

"I  say  it.  I  saw  your  letter  in  her  room  the 
day  you  declared  your  love  for  me." 

Ackerman  was  cornered.  He  must  confess  and 
betray  Stella's  secret  or  keep  silent  and  wreck 
his  own  hopes.     His  decision  was  instantly  made. 

"Miss  Susie,  you've  got  me.  I  give  up. 
I'm  not  a  sneak — but  I  am  a  hypocrite  by  pro- 
tession. 

"You  confess  it?"  Susie  cried  with  scorn. 

"Yes,"  he  whispered.  "I  am  a  trusted  detec- 
tive of  the  United  States  Secret  Service.  I  am 
not  the  enemy  of  your  people.  On  the  other  hand, 
1  have  learned  to  love  and  sympathise  with  them. 
Perhaps  my  love  for  you  has  given  me  that  point 
of  view.  Anyway,  I've  taken  it.  I  am  simply 
here  as  an  officer  on  duty  under  command  of  his 
superior." 

Susie's  face  softened.  She  saw  at  once  her 
mistake. 


294  THE  TRAITOR 

"And  your  duty  led  you  into  correspondence 
with  Miss  Butler?" 

"  I  regret  to  be  compelled  to  answer,  but  it  did." 

"She  has  aided  in  your  work?" 

"Yes.  I  reported  to  her  by  order  of  the  Chief 
on  arrival,  and  have  been  in  constant  communica- 
tion with  her  at  every  step  since." 

"Up  to  the  hour  of  John  Graham's  arrest?" 
Susie  asked  breathlessly. 

"Yes." 

"Oh,  the  Httle  fiend!  I  could  strangle  her!" 
the  girl  cried. 

"  I'm  sorry  to  have  to  betray  this  confidence. 
But  you  have  forced  me." 

"And  you  are  pressing  the  charge  of  murder 
against  John  Graham?" 

"On  the  other  hand,  I  am  not.  If  my  plans 
succeed,  I'll  explode  a  bombshell  in  the  court  room 
the  day  he  faces  the  jury." 

Susie  extended  her  hand. 

"I  beg  your  pardon  for  my  rudeness.  Alfred 
will  put  your  trunk  back  immediately,  if  you  will 
stay." 

Ackerman  mounted  to  his  room  and  unpacked 
his  trunk,  humming  a  love  song  while  Susie  put 
on  her  hat  and  left  with  swift  firm  step  to  find 
Stella  Butler. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THROUGH    DEEP    WATERS 

STELLA  had  hurried  to  the  jail  with  a  bouquet 
of  flowers  earher  than  usual,  accompanied 
by  Maggie  who  carried  a  dainty  breakfast.  She 
wished  to  be  the  first  to  tell  John  Graham  of  the 
blow  which  had  fallen  on  his  people.  She  had 
forgotten  that  the  jail  in  which  he  lay  had  been 
jammed  with  prisoners  during  the  night.  Four 
of  his  friends  were  crowded  into  the  cell  in  which 
he  was  confined. 

Her  heart  sank  at  the  sight  of  the  pitiful  crowds 
of  weeping  women  who  stood  at  the  jail  door, 
some  of  them  with  sick  babies  in  their  arms. 

A  little  tow-headed  boy  sat  on  the  steps,  with 
his  lips  quivering  and  the  big  tears  slowly  rolling 
down  his  cheeks.  She  recognised  him  as  the  one 
she  saw  in  front  of  her  house  the  night  of  the 
Klan's  first  parade. 

She  bent  over  him  and  took  his  hand: 

''What's  the  matter?" 

The  boy's  breast  heaved  and  he  choked,  unable 

to    answer,    bent   his    sunburnt   head  on  Stella's 

hand  and  burst  into  strangling  tears. 

295 


296  THE  TRAITOR 

She  stroked  his  hair,  and  at  length  he  sobbed: 

"They've  got  my  big  brother  in  here — locked — • 
up — in — a — cage!  They're  going  to  kill  him,  and 
he  ain't  got  nobody  but  me  to  help  him.  I  ain't 
nothing  but  a  little  boy.  I  can't  get  no  money, 
and  I  can't  do  nothing.    Oh,  me!  oh,  me!" 

He  bowed  again  and  sobbed  as  though  his 
heart  would  break. 

Stella  slipped  her  arm  around  his  neck  and 
placed  a  rose  in  his  hand. 

"Hush  dear,  I'll  be  your  friend  and  his.  I've 
got  money.  I'll  help  you — give  the  rose  to  your 
brother  and  come  to  see  me." 

"Will  you.  Miss.?"  he  cried,  leaping  up  with 
joy.  "Make  'em  let  me  go  in  with  you  and  I'll 
tell  him!" 

Stella  took  him  by  the  hand  and  led  him  into 
the  jail. 

When  the  jailor  frowned  at  the  boy,  she  said 
with  a  smile: 

"He's  a  Httle  friend  of  mine.     He'll  go  in  with 


me." 


The  boy  nestled  close  to  her  side  and  gripped 
her  hand  tightly.  When  they  reached  the  first 
corridor,  he  sprang  to  a  grated  door  and  seized 
his  brother's  hand.  As  she  passed  on  Stella 
heard  him  say  joyously: 

"It'll  be  all  right,  Jim,  don't  worry.     She's  a 


THROUGH  DEEP  WATERS         297 

goin'  to  help  us.  She  told  me  so.  She's  rich — 
she'll  get  us  a  lawyer." 

Stella  chmbed  the  stairs  to  John's  door  with  a 
great  voiceless  fear  in  her  soul.  The  thought  of 
his  discovery  of  her  betrayal  stopped  the  very 
beat  of  her  heart. 

To  her  surprise  she  found  him  strangely  calm. 

"It's  sweet  of  you  to  come  so  early,"  he  said 
with  a  smile. 

"Love  makes  one's  feet  swift,  doesn't  it?"  she 
answered  softly. 

"And  beautiful!"  he  cried.  "I'm  going  to 
make  you  happier  by  giving  you  more  work. 
Don't  bring  me  anything  more  to  eat  or  any  more 
flowers  until  you've  made  the  other  fellows  com- 
fortable. I'm  all  right,  but  a  lot  of  the  poor  boys 
who  have  just  come  have  broken  down.  Oh, 
God,  if  I  could  have  gotten  my  hands  on  the 
throat  of  the  traitor  last  night!" 

Never  had  she  seen  a  more  terrible  look  on  a 
human  face.  Stella  gazed  at  his  convulsed 
features  fascinated  with  fear. 

"You'll  help  the  boys,  won't  you,  dear,  for  my 
sake?"  he  asked  suddenly.  "Susie  Wilson  and 
her  mother  will  join  you." 

Stella  answered  with  a  start: 

"Why — of  course,  John.     I'll  go  at  once." 

"And  dear!"  he  called  as  she  turned  quickly. 


298  THE  TRAITOR 

"The  lawyer  whom  you  engage  for  me  must 
take  all  their  cases.  I'll  stand  or  fall  with  my 
people." 

"Yes,  I  understand." 

Stella  hurried  home  with  her  soul  in  a  tumult 
of  conflicting  purposes.  She  felt  it  yet  too  dan- 
gerous to  confess  the  dual  role  she  had  played; 
yet  with  each  hour's  startling  events  the  agony  of 
fear  lest  he  discover  her  betrayal  became  more 
and  more  intense. 

One  thing  she  could  do  at  once.  She  would 
make  the  cause  of  his  men  her  own,  she  would 
make  her  ministry  of  love  so  tender  and  unselfish, 
her  sacrifices  so  generous  he  must  hear  her  plea 
when  the  awful  moment  of  her  confession  should 
come. 

She  had  just  given  Aunt  Julie  Ann  orders  to 
prepare  three  meals  each  day  for  every  man  in 
jail  with  John,  and  was  about  to  start  for  the  gar- 
den to  cut  more  flowers,  when  Maggie  ushered 
Susie  Wilson  into  the  hall. 

"I'm  so  glad  you've  come,"  Stella  cried. 
"  I  was  just  going  to  ask  you  and  your  mother  to 
help  us  make  those  men  comfortable  who  have 
been  put  in  jail.  Mr.  Graham  was  sure  you  would 
join  me." 

Susie  stared  at  Stella  for  a  moment  and  slowly 
said: 


THROUGH  DEEP  WATERS         299 

"Is  it  possible!" 

"Why,  what's  the  matter?"  Stella  asked. 
"Won't  you  sit  down?" 

"I  prefer  to  stand,  thank  you,  and  to  come 
straight  to  the  point,"  Susie  answered  with  quiet 
emphasis.     "May   I   ask  you   some   questions?" 

Stella  flushed  and  her  first  impulse  was  to  show 
her  questioner  to  the  door,  but  she  felt  the  dan- 
gerous menace  in  Susie's  tone  and  knew  that  she 
had  suspected  at  least  part  of  the  truth.  It  was 
necessary  to  fence. 

"Why,  as  many  as  you  like,"  she  replied  with 
a  light  laugh. 

"You  have  told  John  Graham  that  you  love 
him?" 

"Your  question  is  an  impertinence.  It's  none 
of  your  business." 

"I  have  made  it  my  business." 

"Then  the  sooner  you  recover  your  self-respect 
the  better,"  Stella  sneered. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  Susie's  gray  eyes 
danced  with  anger. 

"That  you  are  desperately  and  hopelessly  in 
love  with  John  Graham  yourself,  and  that  you 
haven't  pride  and  character  enough  to  hold  up 
your  head  before  his  indiff^erence,  and  his  patronis- 
ing contempt.  I  have  won  him,  and  you  come 
with  cheap  insults  for  the  woman  he  loves." 


300  THE  TRAITOR 

Susie's  eyes  grew  dim. 

"Your  accusation  is  infamously  false,"  she 
cried  with  choking  emotion. 

"You  deny  that  you  love  him  ?"  Stella  flashed. 

"I  glory  in  it — if  you  will  know!"  Susie  cried 
in  dreamy  tenderness.  "I've  always  loved  him 
with  a  girl's  blind  worship  of  the  hero  of  her 
dreams.  And  I  shall  cherish  every  gentle  word 
that  he  has  ever  spoken  to  me.  The  impulse 
which  brought  me  here  wasn't  the  vulgar  desire 
to  insult  the  woman  he  loves.  I  came  to  save 
his  life." 

Stella  sprang  to  her  feet,  her  face  scarlet,  her 
breath  coming  in  quick  gasps  of  anger. 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"I'll  tell  you  if  you  answer  my  questions.  Do 
you  dare  tell  me  that  you  love  him  ?" 

Stella  drew  herself  up  proudly. 

"You  have  no  right  to  ask  that  question.  But 
I  answer  it.     I  do  love  him  and  I  have  told  him." 

Susie  confronted  her  with  flashing  eyes. 

"Then  you  have  deceived  him!" 

"How  dare  you  thus  insult  me  in  my  house," 
Stella  cried  with  flaming  cheeks. 

"I'll  leave  your  house  and  never  enter  it  again. 
You  can  also  rest  assured  that  John  Graham's 
foot  will  never  again  cross  this  threshold  when  I 
have  told  him  the  truth," 


THROUGH  DEEP  WATERS         301 

"When  —  you  —  have  —  told  —  him  —  the 
—  truth!"  Stella  gasped.     "What  truth  ?" 

"That  you  have  betrayed  him  and  his  people 
to   his   enemies." 

"It's  false!  It's  false!"  Stella  panted.  "You 
lie.  You  lie,  because  you  hate  me!  You  hate  me 
because  you  love  him.  Tell  him  if  you  dare.  He 
will  laugh  in  your  face!  Try  it — try  it — I  dare 
you!"  Her  voice  rose  and  fell,  quivering  and 
breaking  in  hoarse  whispers  of  passion. 

Susie  stood  quietly  and  coldly  staring  at  her 
with  lips  upturned  in  scorn. 

"If  he  doubts  my  word,  Mr.  Ackerman's  will 
be  sufficient." 

"Ackerman!"  Stella  moaned,  staggering  to 
the  table. 

"Mr.  Ackerman  of  the  Secret  Service  who  came 
here  in  answer  to  your  call." 

"He— has— told— you?" 

"Yes,  and  I  know  the  whole  black  hideous 
truth.  I  know  that  you  hate  John  Graham,  that 
you  have  used  your  devil's  beauty  to  entrap  and 
betray  him." 

"I  swear  that  I  love  him!"  Stella  groaned  as  she 
sank  to  a  chair. 

"As  you've  sworn  to  him  no  doubt  while  you 
lured  him  to  his  ruin.  I  hate  you — I  hate  you — 
and  I  could  strangle  you!" 


302  THE  TRAITOR 

The  tall  lithe  form  trembling  with  fury  towered 
above  Stella's  shivering  little  figure. 

"Susie,  you  are  mistaken,"  she  faltered.  "Come 
into  the  library  a  moment  and  I'll  convince  you  that 
you  are  wrong." 

She  seized  Susie's  hand  and  led  her  into  the 
library,  sinking  again  into  a  chair. 

"See,  here  is  a  mortgage  for  ten  thousand  dollars 
on  this  house  which  I've  prepared  to  raise  the 
money  for  two  great  lawyers  from  the  North  who 
are  coming  to  defend  him." 

"From  the  North?" 

"Yes." 

"You  mean  to  convict  him,"  Susie  cried. 
"Another  shrewd  trick  you  are  playing.  Your 
lawyers  will  gain  his  confidence,  learn  his  secrets, 
betray  and  send  him  to  his  death.  But,  I'll  warn 
him!" 

"Susie,  you  can't  believe  this  of  me!  The 
pledging  of  this  house  is  the  first  great  act  of  self- 
sacrifice  of  my  life.  The  joy  of  it  has  been  a  sweet 
revelation  to  me.  You  must  hear  me  when  I  tell 
you  that  I  love  him  with  passionate  devotion.  I'd 
give  my  fife  for  him  if  I  could!" 

"And  yet  you  brought  Ackerman  here  and 
hounded  him  for  three  months  until  at  last  he  lies 
in  a  filthy  jail  with  the  shadow  of  death  over  him — 
and  you  call  this  love?" 


THROUGH  DEEP  WATERS         303 

The  tall  form  again  towered  in  rage  above  the 
shrinking  figure. 

*'Wait!  I  must  tell  you  all,  Susie.  You  know 
but  half  the  truth.  Listen  dear,  I  did  try  to  avenge 
my  father's  death.  I  believed  John  Graham 
guilty.  I  did  lure  him  on  to  love  me  only  to  find 
that  I  loved  him!  I  tried  to  hate  him  and  couldn't. 
I've  betrayed  only  his  name  to  Ackerman.  I 
could  tear  my  tongue  out  for  it.  If  he  learns  of 
it,  he  will  turn  from  me  and  hate  me!  Susie  darling, 
I've  been  proud  and  vain  and  wilful.  Now  I'm 
a  poor  little  girl  alone,  friendless  and  lost.  You're 
stronger  than  I  am.  Have  pity  on  me.  Be  a 
mother  to  me — I'm  lonely  and  heart-sick.  You 
know  what  it  is  to  love.  If  he  turns  from  me  now 
before  I  can  atone  for  the  wrong  I  have  done  him, 
I  can't  live.     You — believe — me — now — dear?" 

Susie's  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"Yes,  I  believe  you  now." 

Stella's  head  sank  on  the  table  and  her  form 
shook  with   sobs. 

Susie  gently  stroked  the  curling  black  hair,  and 
said: 

"I'll  help  you.     We'll  work  together  to  save  his 
life." 

In  a  moment  they  were  sobbing  in  each  other's 
arms. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE    PRISONER   AT   THE    BAR 

WHEN  the  day  of  trial  dawned,  Stella  had 
succeeded  in  securing  the  services  of  two 
of  the  greatest  lawyers  in  America,  Reverdy  John- 
son of  Maryland,  Attorney  General  in  the  Cabinet 
of  President  Taylor,  and  Henry  Stanbery  of  Ohio, 
Attorney  General  in  the  Cabinet  of  Andrew 
Johnson. 

The  Government  was  represented  by  the  finest 
legal  talent  its  vast  resources  and  power  could 
command. 

For  eleven  days,  before  two  presiding  judges 
of  the  United  States  Circuit  Court,  the  fierce  battle 
of  legal  giants  raged.  The  great  lawyers  for  the 
defence  fought  every  inch  of  ground  with  dogged 
tenacity. 

Stella  watched  from  day  to  day  with  breathless 
intensity  as  she  sat  by  John  Graham's  side. 

It  soon  became  plain  that  the  Court  had  consti- 
tuted itself  a  partisan  political  tribunal  for  the 
purpose,  not  of  administering  justice,  but  of  crush- 
ing the  enemies  of  the  party  in  power. 

Every  decision  was  against  the  prisoner,  though, 

304 


THE  PRISONER  AT  THE  BAR      305 

in  deference  to  the  distinguished  character  of  the 
lawyers  for  the  defence,  they  were  allowed  to  argue 
each  point.  The  profound  and  accurate  learning 
with  which  they  reviewed  the  Constitutional  law 
of  the  Republic  was  a  liberal  education  to  the 
shallow  little  partisans  who  sat  on  the  judge's 
bench  before  them.  But  their  eloquence  and 
learning  fell  on  the  ears  of  men  whose  decisions 
were  already  made. 

In  violation  of  the  rights  of  the  prisoner  under 
the  constitutions  of  the  state  and  nation  the  indict- 
ment for  murder  was  ordered  to  immediate  trial. 

From  the  moment  the  actual  proceedings  of  the 
trial  began,  the  Government  had  no  delay  or 
difficulty. 

With  sinking  heart  Stella  saw  the  disgraceful 
travesty  of  justice  draw  each  moment  the  cords  of 
death  closer  about  the  form  of  the  man  she  loved. 

The  jury  corruptly  chosen  for  this  case  marked 
the  lowest  tide  mud  to  which  the  administration 
of  justice  ever  sank  in  our  history.  A  white  free- 
man, a  man  of  culture  and  heroic  mould,  whose 
fathers  created  the  American  Republic,  was 
arraigned  to  plead  for  his  life  before  a  jury  com- 
posed of  one  dirty,  ignorant  white  scalawag  and 
eleven  coal-black  Negroes!  The  white  man  was 
not  made  its  foreman,  a  Negro  teamster  was 
chosen. 


3o6  THE  TRAITOR 

Steve  Hoyle  became  at  once  the  presiding  genius 
of  the  prosecution.  The  court  room  was  thronged 
with  Hars,  perjurers  and  sycophants  who  hung 
about  his  fat  figure  with  obsequious  deference. 
Old  Larkin,  who  came  from  the  Capitol  to  assist 
the  prosecution,  sat  constantly  by  Steve's  side. 

John  Graham  watched  Steve  with  cold  deadly 
hate,  but  he  had  warned  his  men  under  no  con- 
ceivable circumstances  to  lift  a  hand  in  resistance 
either  to  constituted  authority,  or  to  give  the 
traitor  his  deserts.  A  pall  of  helpless  grief  and 
fear  hung  over  every  decent  white  man  who 
witnessed  the  High  Court  of  Justice  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  race  suddenly  transformed  into  a  Negro 
minstrel  farce  on  which  hung  their  liberty  and  life. 

The  star  witness  of  the  prosecution  was  Uncle 
Isaac  A.  Postle.  He  took  his  seat  before  the  jury, 
grinning  and  nodding  at  two  of  his  dusky  friends 
among  them  with  calm  assurance. 

Isaac  was  allowed  to  tell  a  marvellous  rambling 
story  of  Ku  Klux  outrages — stories  which  he  had 
heard  from  Larkin — about  whose  truth  he  could 
possibly  know  nothing.  In  vain  the  lawyers  for 
the  defence  objected.  The  court  overruled  every 
objection  and  allowed  the  Apostle  free  scope  to 
his  vivid  imagination. 

Reverdy  Johnson,  the  distinguished  ex-Attorney 
General  of  the  United  States  who  stood  before  the 


THE  PRISONER  AT  THE  BAR      307 

judges  protesting  with  dignity,  bowed  to  the  Bench 
and  sat  down  in  disgust  with  the  quiet  remark: 

**We  shall  offer  no  further  objection  to  anything 
that  may  be  said  in  this  Court." 

He  had  scarcely  taken  his  seat  when  Ackerman 
moved  his  chair  behind  him  and  began  to  whisper. 

The  District  Attorney  watched  the  detective 
in  astonishment,  while  Hoyle  and  Larkin  bent 
their  heads  together  in  excited  conference. 

Susie  looked  at  Stella,  smiled  and  blushed. 

Isaac  finally  came  to  specific  charges  against 
John  Graham. 

"Now  tell  the  court  what  you  know  about  John 
Graham's  connection  with  the  murder  of  Judge 
Butler,"  said  Steve,  who  was  conducting  his 
examination. 

"Yassah,  I  knows  all  'bout  It,  sah.  Mr.  John 
Graham  de  very  man  dat  kill  de  jedge  wid  his 
own  han'.  I  see  'im  when  he  do  It.  Dey  come 
slippin'  up  back  er  de  house,  an'  creep  In  froo  de 
winder  while  de  odder  folks  wuz  in  de  ballroom 
dancin'.  Dey  wuz  eight  un  'em — yassah.  Dey 
slip  up  an'  grab  de  jedge  an'  hoi'  'im  while  Mr. 
John  Graham  stick  a  knife  right  in  his  heart — 
— yassah.  I  wuz  lookin'  right  at  'im  froo  de  win- 
der when  he  done  it.  When  he  kill  'im,  dey  all 
mix  up  wid  de  odder  Ku  Kluxes  what  wuz  dancin', 
an*  go  way  ter-gedder." 


3o8  THE  TRAITOR 

"Take  the  witness,"  said  Steve  with  a  wave 
of  his  hand. 

"How  did  you  know  it  was  Mr.  Graham?'* 
asked  General  Johnson. 

"I  seed  'im  wid  my  own  eyes." 

"He  wore  a  complete  disguise,  did  he  not  ?" 

"Yassah,  but  I  seed  'im  all  de  same." 

"You  could  see  through  the  mask?" 

"I  seed  'im — I  done  tole  ye!" 

"Answer  my  question,"  sternly  commanded  the 
lawyer.  "Could  you  see  his  face  through  the 
mask  ?" 

"Nasah." 

"Then  how  did  you  recognise  him  ?" 

"He  tuck  it  off  ter  scratch  his  head,  sah,  an' 
I  see  his  face.  I  knowed  it  wuz  him  all  de  time 
fo'  I  see  his  face." 

Ackerman  whispered  to  the  lawyer. 

"Did  you  tell  Mr.  Ackerman,  Uncle  Isaac,  that, 
as  you  started  to  run  away  from  the  masqueraders 
that  night,  you  saw  John  Graham  at  your  gate — 
ran  into  him  ?" 

"Nasah,  I  nebber  say  no  sech  thing!"  Isaac 
shouted,  glaring  and  shaking  his  head  at  Acker- 
man. 

"Didn't  you  tell  the  same  gentleman  that  later 
in  the  evening  you  saw  John  Graham  seated  on  a 
rustic  near  the  house  watching  it  from  the  outside  ? " 


THE  PRISONER  AT  THE  BAR      309 

"Nasah!  dat  I  didn't!" 

"Do  you  know  that  if  you  swear  a  lie " 


"I  ain't  swar  no  lie!"  Isaac  interrupted  with 
religious  fervour.  "I'se  de  Lord's  Sanctified  One, 
sah.  I  ain't  done  no  sin  since  I  got  sanctification. 
Yassah,  praise  God!" 

"Don't  you  know,"  repeated  the  lawyer,  "that 
if  you  swear  to  a  lie  on  that  witness  stand  you  can 
be  sent  to  the  penitentiary  for  perjury  ?" 

"  I  knows  dey  ain't  gwine  sen'  me  dar — I  knows 
dat,"  Isaac  said  with  a  grin,  and  his  Negro 
acquaintances  in  the  jury  box  laughed. 

The  lawyer  changed  his  line  of  questions. 

"You  say  you  saw  John  Graham  strike  the 
death-blow  ?" 

"  Yassah,  I  see  'im  wid  dese  very  eyes." 

"  Were  you  close  enough  to  hear  what  was  said  ? " 

"Yassah,  I  wuz  right  dar  by  de  open  winder." 

"What  did  he  say?" 

"  Des  ez  he  raise  de  knife  he  say,  "  I  got  you  now, 
you  d—  Black  Radical  Tublican!" 

"You  swear  that  you  heard  him  say  that  he 
killed  the  Judge  because  he  was  a  Republican?" 

"Yassah!  dat's  what  de  Ku  Kluxes  kill  'em 
all  fur,  sah!" 

Larkin  shuffled  uneasily,  bent  again  in  con- 
ference with  Steve  who  rose  immediately  and 
asked  for  an  adjournment  of  two  hours. 


310  THE  TRAITOR 

When  the  Court  reassembled  and  Isaac  took 
his  seat  in  the  witness  chair,  Aunt  JuHe  Ann's 
huge  form  suddenly  appeared  in  the  doorway 
with  her  hand  resting  confidingly  on  Alfred's 
arm.  They  walked  inside  the  railing  of  the  bar 
and  took  seats  assigned  to  them  behind  John 
Graham's  counsel.  Aunt  Julie  Ann  handed 
Ackerman  a  pair  of  Isaac's  old  shoes.  He  meas- 
ured them  quickly  on  a  diagram  which  he  drew 
from  his  pocket. 

Isaac  watched  Aunt  Julie  Ann  and  Alfred  with 
mouth  opened  in  wonder,  rage  and  growing  fear. 

He  rose  and  bowed  to  the  judges. 

*'  I  gotter  ax  de  cote  ter  perteck  me,  gemmens," 
he  said  falteringly. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  a  judge. 

"  Dat  nigger  Alfred  dar  tryin'  ter  steal  my  wife 
from  me,  sah!" 

Alfred  grinned,  and  patted  Aunt  JuHe  Ann's 
hand  and  whispered:  "Doan  min'  de  low-live 
rascal,  honey!" 

"Yassah,  an'  my  wife  come  here  tryin'  ter 
'timidate  me,  sah.  She  jes  fetch  er  par  er  my 
ole  shoes  inter  dis  cote.  She's  a  cunjer  'oman, 
sah.  I  try  ter  sanctify  her,  but  she  won't  stay 
sanctified.  She  got  a  kink  er  my  hair  las'  night 
and  wrap  it  up  in  a  piece  er  paper  and  put  it  under 
de  cote  house  do'  step,  an'  she  say  dat  ef  I  walk 


THE  PRISONER  AT  THE  BAR      311 

over  dat  into  dis  house  ter-day  an'  jestify  ergin 
Marse  John  Graham  she  fling  er  spell  over  me. 
I  ax  de  cote  fer  pertection,  sah.  I  axes  de  SheriflF 
ter  take  dat  bunch  er  hair  from  under  dem  steps 
fo'  I  say  annuder  word!" 

"Silence,  sir,  and  proceed  with  your  testimony," 
said  the  Judge. 

Aunt  Julie  Ann  fanned  her  fat  face,  smiled  at 
Stella  and  Susie  and  quietly  slipped  her  hand  in 
Alfred's. 

Isaac  dropped  into  his  chair  limp  and  crest- 
fallen. In  a  sort  of  dazed  trance  he  kept  his  eye 
fixed  on  Alfred's  face  grinning  in  triumph. 

John's  lawyer  pounced  on  him  in  sudden  sharp 
accents. 

"Is  this  a  pair  of  your  shoes,  Isaac?'* 

"  Yassah,"  was  the  listless  answer. 

"You  wore  these  shoes  the  night  the  Judge  was 
killed,  didn't  you?" 

"Yassah." 

"You're  sure  of  it  ?" 

"Yassah.  Dem's  my  ole  ones.  I  got  a  new 
pair  now." 

The  lawyer  stepped  close  and  in  threatening 
tones  asked: 

"Will  you  explain  to  this  Court  what  your 
shoes  were  doing  making  tracks  in  the  soft 
mud  of  the  underground  passage  from  the  family 


312  THE  TRAITOR 

vault  of  the  Graham  house  the  night  of  this 
murder  ?'* 

Isaac's  jaw  dropped,  he  drew  his  red  bandanna 
handkerchief  and  mopped  his  brow. 

A  hum  of  excitement  ran  over  the  court  room, 
and  an  officer  cried: 

"Silence!" 

Isaac  continued  to  mop  his  brow  and  fumble  at 
his  handkerchief  while  he  gazed  at  the  lawyer  in  a 
helpless  stupor. 

"Answer  my  question,  sir!"  the  towering  figure 
thundered  into  his  face. 

"  I  doan  know  what  yer  means,  sah,"  he  faltered, 

"Yes  you  do.  There  were  nine  other  men  with 
you.     Who  were  they  ? " 

"I   dunno,  sah!" 

Larkin  whispered  excitedly  to  Steve,  who  shook 
his  head  and  gazed  at  Isaac  in  amazement. 

"Were  they  masked  so  that  you  couldn't  see 
their  faces  .?" 

Isaac  looked  appealingly  to  the  judges  and 
whimpered: 

"  I  doan  know  what  dey  er  talkin'  'bout,  sah." 

"You  must  answer  the  questions, "said  the  Judge. 

The  lawyer  glared  at  Isaac  whose  shifting  eyes 
sought  Larkin. 

"Think  it  over  a  minute,  Isaac,"  the  lawyer 
continued;  "in  the  meantime  examine  that  knife." 


THE  PRISONER  AT  THE  BAR      313 

He  drew  from  its  case  a  long,  keen  hunting-knife, 
and  handed  it  to  the  witness  who  was  now  trem- 
bhng  from  head  to  foot. 

"Did  you  ever  see  that  knife  before  ?" 

Isaac  hesitated  and  finally  answered: 

*' Yassah,  I  sold  it  ter  Mr.  Ackerman." 

*' Where  did  you  get  it  ?" 

Larkin  suddenly  cleared  his  throat  with  a  deep 
guttural  sound  like  the  growl  of  an  infuriated 
animal. 

The  lawyer  looked  at  him  with  annoyance  and 
the  officer  again  shouted: 

"Silence!" 

"I  foun'  it,  sah,"  he  answered  evasively. 

"Now,  Isaac,  you  want  to  be  very  careful  how 
you  answer  my  next  question." 

The  lawyer  took  the  knife  from  the  Negro's 
hand  and  felt  of  its  point. 

"You  will  notice  that  a  tiny  piece  is  broken  off 
the  tip  of  this  blade.  I  hold  in  my  hand  the  Httle 
bit  of  steel  which  exactly  fits  there.  It  was  found 
embedded  in  a  bone  in  Judge  Butler's  body.  This 
is  the  knife  that  struck  the  death-blow.  Did  you 
own  that  knife  the  night  of  the  murder  ?  Answer 
me!" 

Isaac  fumbled  his  handkerchief  again  and 
looked  about  the  room  helplessly. 

Larkin   rose   carelessly   and   started    from   the 


314  THE  TRAITOR 

court    room.     Ackerman,   watching    him   keenly, 
sprang  to  his  side. 

"  Don't  leave,  Larkin,  we  want  you  as  a  witness 
in  a  moment,"  he  whispered. 

"I'll  return  immediately,"  the  Carpetbagger 
replied,  increasing  his  haste. 

"Wait!"  Ackerman  commanded. 

Larkin  quickened  his  pace  and  the  detective 
seized  his  arm. 

The  Carpetbagger  threw  him  off  with  sudden 
fury  and  plunged  toward  the  door. 

With  the  spring  of  a  tiger,  Ackerman  leaped  on 
him.  A  brief  fierce  fight,  and  he  was  dragged 
panting  back  before  the  astonished  Court,  while 
every  man  in  the  room  sprang  to  his  feet  and 
pressed  around  the  struggling  men. 

"What's  the  meaning  of  this  disorder?"  thun- 
dered the  presiding  Judge. 

"With  apologies  to  the  Court  for  the  inter- 
ruption I  beg  leave  to  present  the  murderer  of 
Judge  Butler — I  ask  a  warrant  for  his  arrest," 
Ackerman  demanded. 

A  wave  of  horror  swept  the  crowd  of  Larkin's 
friends. 

"The  man  is  a  crazy  liar,  your  Honours,'* 
protested  Larkin.  "And  he  has  proven  himself 
a  renegade  and  a  scoundrel  in  this  court  room 
to-day.     I  protest  against  this  outrage." 


THE  PRISONER  AT  THE  BAR     315 


i(  T'l 


I'll  prove  my  charge  to  the  Court — every  Hnk 
in  the  chain  of  evidence  is  now  complete,"  was  the 
cool   answer. 

With  the  court  room  in  an  uproar,  Larkin  was 
arrested  and  placed  between  Ackerman  and  a 
deputy,  and  the  trial  resumed. 

A  brief  conference  between  the  District  Attorney 
and  Isaac  preceded  the  first  question  asked  by 
John's  counsel  after  the  disturbance. 

"Now,  Isaac,"  the  lawyer  began  suavely,  "the 
District  Attorney  has  just  promised  to  spare  your 
life  on  condition  that  you  tell  us  the  truth,  the 
whole  truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth — let's 
have  it." 

"Yassah,"  the  Apostle  responded  in  humble 
accents.  "Mr.  Larkin,  he  tell  me  ter  say  what 
I  did,  sah." 

Larkin's  head  dropped  and  his  keen  eyes 
furtively  sought  the  door. 

"Who  gave  you  that  knife  ?" 

A  moment  of  breathless  suspense  rippled  the 
crowded  court  room  and  every  head  was  bent 
forward. 

"Mr.  Larkin  gimme  de  knife!  We'se  been 
powful  good  friends,  sah.  I  show  him  de  under- 
groun'  way  fum  de  tomb  inter  de  house.  I'se  de 
only  black  man  dat  know  it — my  daddy  help  dig 
it — yassah.     Mr.  Larkin  de  fust  man  I  ebber  tell 


3i6  THE  TRAITOR 

dat  I  know  'bout  it.  He  say  he  want  ter  beat  de 
Ku  Kluxes.  He  say  he  make  'em  smoke  dat 
night,  an'  he  git  eight  men  an'  dress  up  jes  lak 
'em,  an'  I  show  him  de  way  ter  git  in  froo  de  panel 
in  de  hall.  He  fool  me.  I  didn't  know  he  gwine 
ter  kill  de  jedge,  sah,  er  I  wouldn't  er  let  'em  in, 
nosah.  I  doan'  believe  in  killin'  nobody.  He 
tell  me  ter  git  outen  de  county  an'  I  stay  till  de 
soldiers  come  back.  Yassah,  an'  dat's  de  whole 
troofl" 

Ackerman  motioned  the  sergeant,  a  pair  of 
handcuffs  cHcked  on  Larkin's  wrists,  and  the  great 
white  head  sank  on  his  breast. 

Stella  gazed  at  his  pathetic  figure  with  a  strange 
feeling  of  pity  and  wonder,  while  her  hand  sought 
John  Graham's  and  pressed  it  tenderly. 

The  count  of  murder  was  dropped,  but  the 
charge  of  conspiracy  was  pressed  with  merciless 
ferocity.  A  procession  of  hired  Hars  ascended  the 
witness  stand  and  in  rapid  succession  perjured 
themselves  by  swearing  that  they  had  recognised 
the  prisoner  on  various  raids  made  by  the  Klan 
in  the  county. 

The  jury  was  out  fifteen  minutes. 

When  they  returned  John  Graham,  in  whose 
veins  flowed  the  blood  of  a  race  of  world-con- 
quering men,  entitled  to  a  trial  by  a  jury  of  his 
peers,   rose    with    quiet   dignity    and    heard    the 


THE  PRISONER  AT  THE  BAR      317 

verdict  of  his  condemnation  fall  from  the  thick 
protruding   lips   of  a    flat-nosed  Negro: 

"We  finds  de  prisoner  guilty!" 

"So  say  you  all  gentlemen  ?"  asked  the  clerk. 

And  in  response  each  black  spindle-shanked 
juror  shambled  to  his  feet  and  answered: 

"Guilty!" 

The  last  name  called  was  the  little  white  Scala- 
wag's, whose  weak  voice  squeaked  an  echo: 

"  Guilty." 

The  Judge  imposed  a  fine  of  one  thousand 
dollars  and  sentenced  John  Graham  to  five  years 
imprisonment  at  hard  labour  in  the  United  States 
penitentiary  at  Albany,  New  York. 

A  low  moan  from  Stella,  and  her  head  sank 
in  voiceless  anguish. 

To  the  brave  and  the  proud  there  are  visions 
darker  than  death. 

John  Graham  saw  this  as  he  was  led  from  the 
court  room  back  to  jail — the  vision  of  the  hideous 
leprous  shame  of  a  convict's  suit  of  stripes! 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE    MINISTRY   OF    ANGELS 

EVERY  delicacy  which  love  could  devise  and 
her  money  buy  Stella  lavished  on  John  and  his 
friends.  Each  day  added  to  the  list  of  men  who 
returned  to  jail  condemned  to  the  infamy  of  a 
convict's  pen  at  Albany. 

When  the  deep-muttered  curses  against  Steve 
Hoyle  for  the  betrayal  of  his  men  reached  John's 
ears,  he  sent  through  Stella  his  sternest  orders  and 
his  tenderest  entreaties  to  Dan  Wiley  to  prevent 
violence.  Dan  had  successfully  eluded  every 
effort  to  arrest  him.  John  knew  that  he  was 
hiding  in  the  mountains  with  the  men  he  had 
commanded  armed  to  the  teeth,  and  he  lived  in 
constant  dread  of  the  news  of  Steve's  assassination, 
even  under  the  noses  of  the  United  States  troops. 

A  single  burst  of  sunlight  came  to  brighten  for 
Stella  the  gloom  of  the  day  before  John's  departure 
for  Albany.  She  succeeded  in  liberating  *'Jim," 
the  big  brother  of  her  little  tow-headed  friend. 
Her  interest  in  the  boy  had  been  noted,  and  she 
received  the  usual  mysterious  message — that  money 

placed  at  the  right  spot  would  prevent  any  witness 

318 


THE  MINISTRY  OF  ANGELS       319 

from  identifying  Jim.  She  found  the  right  spot 
promptly  and  paid  the  bribe  of  two  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars  without  a  question  as  to  the  ethics 
involved.  Jim  was  discharged,  and  when  he 
walked  out  a  free  man  a  little  tow-headed  boy  lay 
sobbing  out  his  joy  on  her  breast. 

"I'm  goin'  to  work  for  you,  if  you'll  let  me," 
he  cried  through  his  tears. 

"Why,  I  thought  you  said  you  couldn't  do 
anything  that  day  we  met  ?"  she  laughed. 

*'Oh,  I'm  awful  smart,"  he  boasted — "I  can 
tote  fresh  water,  carry  all  your  notes  to  your  sweet- 
heart— and  I'm  great  diggin'  worms  ter  go  fishin' — 
I  know  right  where  to  find  'em!" 

She  sent  him  away  with  a  kiss  and  a  promise  to 
let  him  come  and  show  her  what  he  could  do. 

As  she  entered  the  jail  with  John's  dinner,  the 
jailor,  whose  friendship  she  had  won  by  the  Hberal 
use  of  money  and  skilful  flattery,  whispered  to  her: 

"Come  in  here  a  minute,  Miss,  I  want  to  show 
you  something." 

She  followed  him  into  his  room  and  started  with 
horror  at  the  sight  of  a  dirty  suit  of  convict's 
stripes  spread  out  on  a  chair. 

Stella's  face  blanched. 

"They  are  for  him  ?"  she  gasped. 

"Yessum,  an'  if  ye'll  excuse  me  fer  sayin'  it, 
I  think  it's  a  d shame," 


320  THE  TRAITOR 

"They  have  no  right  to  put  this  outrage  on  him 
before   his    people,"    she   cried. 

*'No'm,  they  haint  got  no  right,  but  they're 
goin'  ter  do  it  to-morrow  mornin'  just  the  same. 
They're  goin'  ter  take  him  all  the  way  ter  Albany 
in  that  suit." 

"Who's  doing  this?"  she  asked  with  rising 
wrath. 

"Steve  Hoyle,  m'am.  He's  fixin'  to  have  a  big 
gang  er  niggers  and  low  white  trash  here  in  the 
mornin'  ter  hoot  and  yell  and  make  fun  of  him  all 
the  way  to  the  train,  an'  I  thought  I'd  tell  ye." 

"Thank  you,"  she  answered  warmly,  her  big 
brown  eyes  beginning  to  flash  fire. 

"Ye  know  ef  I'd  step  out,  that  suit  o'  clothes 
might  be  foun'  missin'.  It  ain't  mine.  I'll  swear 
to  that.     I  don't  know  anybody  that  owns  it,  er 


wants  it." 


"I  understand.  Wrap  it  up,  please.  I  can't 
touch  it." 

Stella  shuddered  and  watched  the  jailor  with 
wide-staring  eyes  as  he  picked  up  the  suit,  wrapped 
it  in  a  piece  of  brown  paper  and  laid  it  back  on 
the   chair. 

"  I  got  to  go — there's  somebody  knockin'  at 
the  door — course,  I  won't  know  what's  become  er 
the  d thing." 

He  left  her  with  a  grin,  and  Stella  seized  the 


THE  MINISTRY  OF  ANGELS       321 

bundle,  hurried  home  and  burned  it.  On  the  way 
she  stopped  at  a  hardware  store  and  made  a 
mysterious  purchase  which  she  carefully  con- 
cealed, and  there  was  a  dangerous  light  in  her 
eyes  as  she  placed  this  package  beside  the  travel- 
ling dress  which  she  had  laid  out  to  wear  on  the 
train  with  John. 

The  jailor  passed  Stella  in  the  hall  but  looked 
the  other  way  as  he  hurried  forward  with  two 
soldiers  who  had  called  to  see  John  Graham. 
They  were  dressed  in  the  regulation  blue  suits  of 
the  army.  The  jailor,  trusting  implicitly  their 
uniforms,  allowed  them  to  go  up  unaccompanied 
to  John's  door. 

So  complete  was  the  disguise  that  at  first  the 
condemned  man  gazed  through  the  bars  with 
indifference  at  his  callers. 

The  taller  of  the  two  suddenly  thrust  his  face 
close  and  whispered: 

"God,  man,  don't  ye  know  me  ?" 

John  started. 

*'Dan — Billy — what    does    this    mean!" 

Dan  put  his  finger  on  his  lips. 

"Everything's  all  right.  Billy's  been  up  in  the 
mountains  with  me  at  my  summer  resort." 

"  I  wrote  you,  Billy,  not  to  come!"  John  scowled. 

"  I'm  not  going  to  see  this  infamy  puton  you " 

"It's  all  fixed,  Chief,"  Dan  broke  in,  drawing  a 


322  THE  TRAITOR 

new  sledge  hammer  from  his  pocket,  and  shpping 
the  handle  from  his  sleeve. 

With  a  loud  cough  to  mask  the  sound  he  thrust 
the  handle  into  its  place. 

"You're  both  crazy!"  John  said  with  anger. 

"  It's  as  easy  as  fallin'  off  a  log,"  Dan  urged. 

*'Billy'll  smash  the  lock,  I'll  gag  and  tie  the 
jailor.  I've  got  the  fastest  horse  in  the  county 
waitin'  fer  ye  at  the  corner.  Git  thirty  minutes 
start,  an'  there  ain't  cavalry  enough  this  side  er  hell 
to  stop  ye.  When  ye  get  ter  my  house,  ye'U  be  in 
God's  country.    The  boys  are  there  waitin'  fer  ye." 

Dan  handed  the  hammer  to  Billy. 

"Put  that  hammer  down!"  John  commanded 
sternly. 

"I  won't — you've  got  to  go  with  us." 

"Do  as  I  tell  you,  or  I'll  call  the  jailor,"  John 
said   with   a   frown. 

"For  God's  sake,  come  with  us!"  Billy  pleaded. 
"  Steve  Hoyle's  going  to  have  a  crowd  of  Negroes 
here  to  laugh  and  jeer  at  you  to-morrow  as  you 
come  out.     I  tell  you  I  can't  stand  it!" 

John's  face  suddenly  paled. 

"You  can  stand  it  if  I  can,  Billy!  Get  out  of 
this,  both  of  you,  before  you're  arrested — quick 
now.     I  won't  have  it.     Come  here,  Dan!" 

John  called  to  the  mountaineer  who  had  turned 
away. 


THE  MINISTRY  OF  ANGELS       323 

"Give   me  your  hand." 

Dan  thrust  his  hand  through  the  bars  and  John 
grasped  it. 

"Are  you  a  friend  of  mine  ?" 

"Ain't  I  a  showin'  ye." 

"Take  Billy  home  and  take  care  of  him  until 
I    return — will   you    do   it  ? " 

"Yes — but  I  don't  hke  this  givin'  up  a  fight 
when  I've  won  it." 

"And  one  thing  more,  Dan,  old  boy,  before  I 
let  your  hand  go,  you've  got  to  promise  me  not  to 
kill  Steve  Hoyle." 

"Who  said  I  was  goin'  to  do  it?" 

"I  say  it." 

"He  ain't  fit  ter  five." 

"Yes,  but  somehow  God  lets  a  lot  of  such  trash 
cumber  the  earth.  We'd  better  not  try  any  more 
interference  with  his  plans." 

Dan  hesitated,  struggling  with  deep  passion, 
drew  a  handkerchief  and  blew  his  nose. 

"Ye're  putty  hard  on  me.  Chief,  I  was  goin* 
ter  call  by  Steve's  house  and  finish  both  jobs 
to-day,  but  orders  is  orders.  I'll  take  'em  from 
you.  I  won't  take  'em  from  nobody  else.  Good- 
bye, take  care  er  yourself." 

Billy  pressed  his  brother's  hand,  silently  turned 
and   left  with   Dan. 

When  the  last  echo  of  their  steps  had  died  away 


324  THE  TRAITOR 

John  Graham  stared  through  the  iron  bars  for  half 
an  hour  and  saw  only  the  vision  of  a  mob  of  yelling, 
laughing  Negroes  and  behind  them  the  fat,  white 
cowardly  face  of  Steve  Hoyle. 

He  sank  to  the  chair  with  a  groan: 

"O  God,  if  it  be  possible  let  this  cup  pass  from 
me  I 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  DAY  OF  ATONEMENT 

WHEN  Steve  Hoyle  discovered  next  morning 
that  the  suit  of  stripes  which  he  had  secured 
at  enormous  expense  in  bribery  and  hush  money 
had  been  lost  he  v^^as  furious.  The  jailor  laughed 
at  his  idle  threats  and  cursed  him  roundly  when 
accused  of  making  way  with  the  suit. 

Steve  left  in  a  rage  to  drum  up  a  larger  crowd  to 
hoot  and  yell  at  the  man  he  hated. 

Stella  pressed  her  way  through  the  throng  of 
Negroes  into  the  jail,  carrying  an  enormous 
bouquet  of  roses  in  one  hand  and  in  the  other  a 
basket  of  delicate  flowers  threaded  into  long 
beautiful  garlands. 

John  determined  to  save  her  from  the  scene  of 
his  humiliation. 

"You  must  not  go  through  the  streets  with  me 
to  the  train,  my  dear,"  he  said  tenderly.  "Go 
down  in  a  carriage  and  join  me  at  the  station." 

"  I  will  if  they  let  you  ride  with  me,"  she  firmly 
answered. 

"  Impossible.  They've  given  special  orders  that 
I  shall  walk." 

3^5 


326  THE  TRAITOR 

"Then  I'll  walk  with  you,"  she  said  with  a 
smile. 

John's  face  clouded  with  pain. 

"Please,  dearest,  for  my  sake?" 

"It's  for  your  sake  I'm  going  with  you." 

"They  may  say  something  to  hurt  you,"  he 
pleaded. 

"I  don't  think  they  will,"  she  said  as  the  fire 
suddenly  flashed  from  her  brown  eyes. 

"  But  they  will,  my  love,  they  will.  It's  hard 
enough  for  me.  They  mustn't  hurt  you — I  can 
hear  them  out  there  now — that  black  mob — waiting 
to  hoot  and  yell — please,  don't  go  with  me!" 

Stella  left  his  cell  door,  stepped  to  the  window 
and  looked  out.  Steve  Hoyle  was  passing  along 
the  lines  of  Negroes  ranged  on  either  side  of  the 
walk,  instructing  them  what  to  say.  He  had 
massed  around  the  door  a  mob  of  two  hundred  to 
follow  his  lead  the  moment  John  appeared. 

"Watch  me,"  he  said,  "and  I'll  give  you  the 
signal.  I  want  you  to  let  him  have  it  square  in 
the  face  when  I  raise  my  hand.  I'll  stand  on  the 
doorstep.  I  want  a  laugh  first  from  five  hundred 
black  throats — on  old-fashioned  nigger  laugh, 
long,  deep  and  loud!  It'll  be  a  funny  sight,  I  prom- 
ise you  that." 

"We  watch  ye,"  answered  a  big  buck  Negro 
with   a   grin. 


THE  DAY  OF  ATONEMENT        327 

Stella  heard  the  chck  of  the  lock  of  John's  cell 
with  a  start  and  turned  to  find  the  deputy  marshal 
standing  with  a  pair  of  handcuffs. 

"We  are  ready,"  he  said. 

John  stepped  into  the  corridor,  and  extended  his 
hands.  The  deputy  snapped  the  steel  on  his 
wrists,  and  Stella  drew  the  garlands  of  flowers 
from  the  basket. 

"You  don't  mind  the  flow^ers — do  you  officer? 
I'm  going  with  you." 

"  Certainly  not,  m'am,"  he  replied. 

John  saw  that  protest  was  useless,  but  he  gazed 
at  the  garlands  with  amazement. 

"What  on  earth  are  you  going  to  do,  my  dear  ? " 

"Just  a  little  trick  of  love,"  was  the  laughing 
answer. 

She  wound  the  flowers  around  each  handcuff, 
placed  in  John's  hand  the  enormous  bouquet  of 
roses,  and  not  a  trace  of  steel  could  be  seen. 

"  You  can  carry  them  for  me,"  she  said,  hurrying 
on  before  him. 

Stella  passed  suddenly  through  the  jail  door  to 
the  little  brick  landing  of  the  steps  on  which 
Steve  Hoyle  stood  to  give  his  signal. 

Steve  started  in  surprise  at  her  appearance, 
stammered  and  flushed,  and  a  murmur  of  uncer- 
tainty ran  through  the  crowd. 

In  a  moment  the  traitor  had  recovered  himself, 


328  THE  TRAITOR 

and  glancing  at  Stella  with  a  sneer  of  triumph,  he 
shouted  to  his  henchmen: 

"Say  what  you  please,  boys — don't  mind  the 
ladies!'* 

Stella  turned  her  eyes,  gleaming  with  a  deadly 
purpose,  straight  on  Steve,  and  a  revolver  flashed 
from  her  hand  into  his  face.  He  dodged,  trembled, 
and  crouched  against  the  wall,  while  she  sternly 
said: 

"Now  lift  your  hand  or  open  your  mouth,  you 
contemptible  sneak  and  coward!" 

A  cry  of  terror  swept  the  dark  crowd,  and  scores 
broke  and  fled. 

As  John  appeared  in  the  doorway,  Stella  turned 
to  the  Negroes  and  in  ringing  tones  cried: 

"I  dare  one  of  you  black  loafers  to  off'er  a  single 
insult  to  the  man  whose  love  I  hold  dearer  than  my 
life.     I'll  kill  you  as  I  would  a  dog." 

Revolver  in  hand,  with  stern  set  face  and  flaming 
eyes  she  opened  the  way  through  which  John 
Graham  passed  in  silence. 

At  the  station  a  crowd  of  friends  gathered  and 
cheered  his  departure. 

Old  Nicaroshinski  slipped  a  hundred  dollars  in 
his  hand  and  whispered  in  broken  voice: 

"  Don't — don't  you  vorry,  me  poy,  ve'll  puild  a 
monumendt  to  you  in  de  public  squvare  yedt!" 

Stella  was  allowed  to  sit  by  his  side  in  the  car. 


THE  DAY  OF  ATONEMENT       329 

and  as  the  train  started  John  looked  at  her  a 
moment  through  dimmed  eyes,  and  slowly  said: 

"The  glory  of  this  hour  has  more  than  paid  for 
all  the  pain  and  all  the  shame  a  thousand  lives 
could  hold!" 

And  then  in  low  soft  accents  broken  with  sobs 
she  confessed  to  him  the  story  of  her  love  and  at 
the  end  with  trembling  lips  asked: 

*'  But  you  can't  hate  me  for  it  now,  can  you,  my 
darling  ?'* 

For  an  answer  he  bent  and  tenderly  kissed  her 
hand,  while  she  felt  rather  than  heard  the  low 
passionate  words:  *'  I  love  you — I  love  you — I  love 
yoi 


»ul 


CHAPTER  X 

UNDER   BRIGHT    SKIES AN    EPILOGUE 

TIME    slowly  healed    the    poisoned    wounds 
left  by  the  fierce  struggles  of  Reconstruction. 

John  Graham's  case  was  never  decided  by  the 
Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States.  Before  the 
day  arrived  for  the  test  of  its  appeal  to  the  great 
tribunal  which  is  the  last  bulwark  of  American 
Hberties,  he  was  hastily  pardoned,  and  every 
man  with  him  who  languished  in  prison  pens  for 
similar  political  offences.  The  little  politicians 
who  had  forced  through  Congress  the  venomous 
Conspiracy  Acts  in  violation  of  the  Constitution 
of  the  Republic  did  not  dare  to  allow  the  Supreme 
Court  the  opportunity  to  overwhelm  them  with 
infamy. 

The  years  have  brought  magic  changes  to  the 
people  of  Independence.  The  growing  city  has 
ploughed  a  new  street  through  the  old  Graham 
house  and  a  dozen  beautiful  homes  stand  on  the 
site  of  its  wide  lawn. 

Poetic  justice  demanded  that  Steve  Hoyle  should 
pay  the  penalty  of  his  treachery.  But  Time  plays 
many  a  joke  on  Justice.    The  Honourable  Stephen 

33° 


UNDER  BRIGHT  SKIES  331 

Hoyle  is  now  one  of  our  fattest,  most  solemn  and 
most  dignified  judges  of  the  Federal  Courts. 

Ackerman's  long  talks  on  imaginary  cotton  mills 
had  one  important  result.  They  planted  in  John 
Graham's  imagination  the  seeds  of  fortune.  On 
his  return  from  prison  he  quit  the  practice  of  law 
and  began  the  manufacture  of  cotton  goods.  To 
please  his  wife  he  bought  Inwood,  whose  wide 
acres  of  forest  extend  to  the  river.  Here  the 
Graham   Brothers'   mills   are   located. 

The  Inwood  mansion  he  restored  on  its  original 
foundations,  rebuilding  it  of  native  marble  behind 
the  stately  old  Corinthian  pillars  around  one  of 
which  the  ivy  is  yet  allowed  to  hang  in  graceful 
festoons. 

Ackerman,  who  is  the  Superintendent  of  the 
mills,  lives  but  a  stone's  throw  from  Inwood,  and 
every  day  Susie's  and  Stella's  children  play 
together  on  the  great  lawn  that  still  lies  hidden 
in  the  heart  of  the  ancient  woods. 


THE    END 


